Days Are Long
by Tsormick
Summary: Kurt is getting ready to leave for college and trying to figure out where all of the men fit in his life- his dad, his stepbrother, his live-in friend, his boyfriend... Why does moving to New York feel so much like moving on? And then there's Dave Karofsky, who the world has forgotten. Dave is willing to take any place that will have him. Canon up through "Dance With Somebody."
1. The Tenth Call

AN: Kurt's getting ready to leave for college and trying to find a place for all of the men in his life. Dave's trying to find any place that will have him. Follows the events of Dance with Somebody, mostly AU after that but I will try to work canon in whenever possible.

Also I'm working on a fic called "9 Calls" which fills in the gaps in Dave's story between "Heart" and "On My Way." I'm about 1/3 of the way finished with that. Not sure when you can expect it though, because considering the subject matter, it's extremely difficult for me to write.

Anyway. Here's this.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Kurt has 42 days left of his senior year in high school, and there are moments where he feels no bigger, no more mature than he did 42 days into his freshman year. Everything is piling up into this huge, complicated mess and half the time he just wants to get away from everything and run off to New York where he doesn't have to worry about it anymore and the other half of the time he wants to stay like this forever- frozen in a moment where everyone is starting to realize that their lives are never going to be the same again, and maybe there won't be another time where they're all together, not like they are now, so "I love you"s and "I'll miss you"s are exchanged with practically every "hello" and "goodbye."

And this is all starting before summer hits, before anyone is really getting ready to leave. This time right now is bearable in the most painful way. A reminder that everything was real, they've formed this bond with so many different people and they all love each other even if they didn't always say it.

Kurt's figuring out how to get through all of it. How to see his dad without bursting into tears, how to see Blaine without turning each moment into one of those dreaded "this could be the last time we ever watch project runway together" type of moments.

He's getting burned out so fast.

He's trying to make things work with Blaine the way they worked in the beginning. Blaine is trying to be more attentive and supportive and Kurt is trying to talk about NYADA less, but mostly it feels like they're stuck.

There are moments where guilt starts to set in. He's so focused on his life and trying to save himself from all of these things that are closing in on him that he forgets about someone to whom he made perhaps the most important promise of all. The ways he sees it, it could easily be a matter of life or death.

_"You're going to get through this. Because I'm going to help you."_

He's texted Dave exactly twice since he saw him in the hospital.

The first message was short: _Are you back home? How are you doing?_

The response he got only said _yes_ and he wasn't sure what to say to that so he let the subject drop. The yes was clearly an answer to the first question only and as far as Kurt was concerned, the lack of an answer to the second question meant that Dave was not doing OK and didn't want to talk about. And who was Kurt to force him to?

It was so easy for them to say that they were going to be friends when Dave was sitting in a hospital bed with tears in his eyes and on his face. So natural for Kurt to act like this was a cure all for Dave's problems and to reach out and hold his hand like nothing else in the world mattered.

The second time Kurt texted him, he asked if he had gotten enrolled in a new high school. Again, the only answer he got was yes, but this felt like a safer topic so he prodded a little bit and asked what school Dave was going to now. _North Lima_

Kurt's a pretty big texter normally, especially when talking to one of his girls, but he was intimidated by these one and two word responses to his texts and isn't used to forcing conversations so he assumes that them deciding to be friends was some kind of fluke, and that they were never meant to be anything more than acquaintances.

Kurt is in his room sorting through his sticky notes. Everything is labeled now, but the more he looks at the squares of brightly colored paper, the more he feels tired and overwhelmed. He has sentimental moments where he decides that he really does want things like the certificate the says they failed nationals last year, and moments where he wants to leave everything behind and start fresh because there's no way he's going to be able to chose so starting over seems like almost the easier option.

Finn is out on a date with Rachel, Sam is out trying to win over Mercedes (or win her back, one of the two and Kurt can never keep track), and his dad is in D.C. with Carole.

This isn't uncommon, but sitting in his bedroom alone in Lima makes him feel even lonelier than he ever imagined New York would.

He is spread out on his bed with his eyes closed, ignoring the way that the neon sticky notes prance around his eyelids, when his phone buzzes.

It's probably Blaine. Blaine is stuck with his dad tonight. No doubt one of his dad's attempts to bond with Blaine over manly things and Blaine is just texting Kurt so that he can keep his sanity intact.

But it's not from Blaine.

It's also not from Chandler, who Kurt was actually quite disappointed about losing as a potential friend.

It's from Dave. This is especially important to note because it's the first time that Dave has tried to contact Kurt since those horrible phone calls that Kurt can never forgive himself for not answering.

The text is their longest one yet. _Has everyone finally decided to stop acting like they give a shit about me? Because I can't fucking stand pity and I need to know if they're going to decide to spontaneously show up at my door and serenade me about how great life is._

If possible, this makes Kurt feel even worse about everything. The honest answer to Dave's question is yes. Dave got out of the hospital and life at McKinley went on like nothing had happened. Kurt isn't going to write him back and say, _Yes, everyone has forgotten about you and we're all too focused on our own problems to try to help you with yours._ Or the even worse answer, _Yes, no one actually cared about you at all._

He imagines that Dave is desperate for any friend he can get who legitimately cares about him for who he is, but he wouldn't want a friendship forged on people feeling sorry for him and trying to help him so they can go back to pretending that the world isn't some horrible place where stuff like suicide actually exists.

Kurt does care about Dave, he really does. But for as much as Kurt cares about him, he can't figure out what he's supposed to do with him.

So Kurt sends him back another question._ Is it better if I say "yes" or "no"?_

The response is immediate. _To which one the first or the second part_

Kurt feels his heart begin to break, because maybe Dave_ is_ so desperate that he needs people to pretend to care about him. Maybe no one is willing to put in the actual effort and this is the closest thing he could get.

Kurt's throat feels tight as he reads another message from Dave, one that just says _hello?_ Then his ringtone kicks in and Dave is calling him. Kurt only sees the name for a second before his vision goes blurry and he's blinking back tears and trying to even out his breathing. He's flashing back to all the times that Dave had called him, growing more and more desperate for Kurt to pick up and Kurt had just quietly ignored the call every time. So Kurt imagines that things are bad if Dave is calling him right now. He pictures Dave calling him before with the noose in his hand, and he thinks that maybe Dave is doing that again right now. He has no real proof that either one of those things happened, but his ringtone dies out and he feels like a horrible person.

He's not entirely sure that he's going to be able to talk through the tears clogging his throat, but he calls Dave back anyway, just to be sure that someone is there to answer.

Dave picks up the phone with a quiet, "Hi."

"I was just calling you back. I saw that you called so I'm calling you. I was away from my phone." Good god, he's babbling. And potentially hysterical.

"Oh," is all Dave says. There's silence for a few seconds while Dave clears his throat to add, "Thanks for calling me back."

If Kurt's heart wasn't cracking already for this big, struggling jock, then that unwarranted _thanks_ would've done it for sure.

Kurt wants to tell Dave not to thank him for something as small as a phone call, but they both know that Kurt was guilty of not answering his phone before, so maybe Kurt calling Dave back is a big deal to Dave. Maybe Kurt actually calling Dave is a big deal for Kurt, too.

Neither one of them speak. There's an almost inaudible, uneven breathing in Kurt's ear. Like Dave is crying or trying not to and he doesn't want Kurt to hear.

Kurt should say something profound. He should have some life-altering words for Dave. Mostly he just wants to tell Dave to stop crying because he can't bear to listen to the soft breathing coming out of his phone. But that's neither sympathetic nor helpful.

Dave speaks first: "So everything's back to normal at McKinley?"

He's asking Kurt again if everyone has forgotten about him. _Everything's back to normal? Has everyone finally decided to stop acting like they give a shit about me?_

The most meaningful thing Kurt can dredge up is "David," whispered on an exhale, more breath than word.

This time Kurt hears it for sure: the hitch in the Dave's breath, the way he has to take a few seconds to gather himself before he can reply. And it doesn't help, not one bit, that Kurt has seen Dave cry twice now and his brain helpfully supplies the image of Dave's face scrunching up and the soft flush of his cheeks. The way that Dave looks at Kurt like he's begging him to make the pain stop.

Dave can no doubt hear that Kurt's crying too. At first Kurt tries to hold the phone away from his mouth so that Dave can't hear, but then he abolishes that plan. Maybe it's better if Dave hears him. Maybe Dave needs to hear that there's someone willing to cry over him.

"At least they're being honest," is what Dave finally comes up with.

"What?"

"Your friends. They shouldn't have to act like I- like I matter-" Kurt thinks that there might have been more, but Dave couldn't get the words out. Kurt doesn't want to hear more, anyway.

Kurt has been called a bitch before, and not without reason. He values honesty, perhaps a little bit more than he should at times, and he's got no soothing words for this boy who has no one, so maybe honesty is the best thing Kurt can give.

He's going to put an end to this dance that the two of them have been doing.

"I don't know how to be your friend." For the first time since they started talking (or not talking) there's complete silence. Kurt almost thinks that Dave hung up, when—

"I understand." Soft and sincere. Final. Dave _understands_ that Kurt doesn't want to be his friend. Which isn't what Kurt was trying to say at all, and Kurt had to go and open his mouth and now he's made things that much worse. "I'll leave you alone. For real this time."

"No, wait, David don't hang up!"

"Kurt, I get it. You don't owe me anything. Really."

"David, I meant what I said, that I don't know how to be your friend, but _I'm going to try_. I'm trying to figure out where to start."

"I don't know."

"OK, well, let's see. We could…" And Kurt trails off, trying and failing to make plans for them. Kurt runs on schedules. He can be spontaneous, sure, but when it fits within his predetermined time slot. So it's natural for him to attempt to come up with some elaborate day that he can spend with Dave. Besides, it helps him plan his outfit.

But he's got nothing. He knows practically nothing about Dave, outside of the fact that Dave played Hockey and then Football and for some odd reason Dave was taking calculus as a junior.

That's not true. Kurt's got two more things. He's got butterscotch and an "I think I love you." But neither one of those things is particularly helpful either, and it makes him ache to think about anything that occurred on that awful, awful day.

Dave dredges up a slight chuckle from somewhere. "Kurt, you know we don't have anything in common." He's got an edge to his voice now, a little bit harsh and completely serious. "What, are you trying to plan some sort of Julie Andrews marathon for us? Because if you are, then fuck it. Count me out."

"I wasn't." Really, he wasn't. He's pressured Dave enough about being gay. _Come out. Make a difference. What are you so scared of?_ The last thing he wants to do is force Dave to partake in Kurt's (admittedly) stereotypically gay activities.

Kurt's trying to be done forcing Dave to be someone he's not meant to be.

Kurt wants Dave to stop forcing himself also.

"Yeah, like the idea of gaying out with some type of musical marathon or Lady Gaga dance-a-thon never crossed your mind."

"Stop putting words in my mouth. I'm not trying to make you watch anything that might accidentally give you some culture."

OK, maybe sometimes Kurt can be a little bit pretentious. So sue him.

"Jesus, we can't even get through a five minute conversation without fighting."_ Or at least one of us crying,_ Kurt wants to add, but doesn't.

"We've had normal conversations before." It's a lie and they both know it. And instead of the lie helping to ease them into some casual interaction (which they have never had before), it just sits there, heavy and awkward and above all else, a reminder of exactly why they shouldn't be friends.

"Yeah, bullshit. We haven't."

Dave probably still feels like he's dying inside and fuck, Kurt feels responsible. Like he should have known better, because aside from maybe Dave's parents, Kurt _knew_. Kurt had seen it all first hand. How Dave was so angry and defiant until his anger edged away into complete despair that left him practically sobbing in the hallway for forgiveness. How Mr. Karofsky had brought up Dave's slipping grades. The way that it had looked like Dave would dance with him at prom, until Kurt opened his stupid mouth and turned the moment into some big coming-out ordeal that he knew Dave wasn't ready for.

And finally, Dave's last ditch attempt at being honest with Kurt, telling him that he thought he was in love with him, and Kurt shot him down again. _"You just think you love me. You don't really love me."_

_You don't really love me_. In hindsight, wasn't that a horrible thing to say also? At the time it had made Kurt feel marginally better about everything. Tricking himself into believing that Dave didn't know what he was talking about so Dave couldn't actually be in love with him.

Dave had told him that he was trying to be honest for the first time in his life. Who was Kurt to shoot that down? And who was Kurt to ignore _nine phone calls_ from someone who had been showing signs of depression for at least the last year and a half?

They're on phone call number ten and yeah, they're fighting, but they're going to be friends if it's the last thing Kurt does.

Kurt is going to get something right when it comes to Dave.

Fuck schedules. Kurt can be spontaneous. He can work his schedule around that tonight.

"What are you doing right now?"


	2. Behind the Rink

Chapter 2- Behind the Rink

Kurt frets over his outfit for exactly five minutes before he realizes that the only useful thing he's doing is stalling. He's meeting Dave in the parking lot behind the Sportsplex where Dave has been sitting alone in his truck for god knows how long. It's 10:00 at night, the sun has gone down and Dave is obviously upset. Why would Kurt's clothes even factor into that?

Because Kurt doesn't know any other way to cope. He packs on clothing like a suit of armor and today he needs as many layers of protection as he can get.

He gives up after trying on his fourth scarf. What good is something tied around his neck going to do him when all Dave wants is someone to talk to? A scarf isn't going to help him with that. Finding the perfect jacket isn't going to magically present him with the right words to say.

Flawless outfit or no, he's terrified. Not that Dave's going to hurt him. He hasn't been afraid of that for a while. It seems like an absurd revelation. Of course he isn't afraid of Dave hurting him. That probably ended the moment that Dave broke down outside Kurt's French classroom, and Kurt learned that for all the times Dave was awful to Kurt, Dave has probably been just as awful to himself. No, he's still afraid of Dave. But it's because Kurt has no idea what he's doing. This boy is a stranger with whom he shares a horrendous history. Remove their past and Kurt's got nothing. The two of them have no future together. They don't even have a _present_ together.

Kurt backs out of his driveway with the knowledge that if someone had told him a year ago that he was leaving his house with the express purpose of seeing David Karofsky, he would have thought that person was out of their mind.

But that's exactly what he's doing. He pulls onto his street on a clear, Saturday night so that he can be supportive of the one person who tried harder than anyone else to cut Kurt down.

Kurt's got Lady Gaga playing in the background because he needs strength. He needs to remember how to be confident and self-assured. His thoughts keep trying to get in the way of the music though, and when he turns up the music to block them out, he gets even more frustrated because he's losing time and hasn't figured out a single fraction of what he's doing.

This is completely unfair to both of them. But Kurt's a good person and Dave is trying to be a good person, so maybe this will be OK. Maybe they will be able to ignore their past and talk rationally about the present and the future. No use crying over spilt milk.

Then Kurt pulls into a parking spot next to Dave's beat up Chevy pickup and sees Dave clinging to his steering wheel with his hands on two and ten, his head bowed down and resting on his outstretched arms.

Kurt watches him for a minute or two, his car seeming oddly silent despite Lady Gaga still blaring from his speakers.

Dave is shaking. Possibly crying, but his face is covered up so Kurt can't tell. It doesn't look like Dave has even registered that Kurt is parked next to him.

Dave moves. He reaches into the cup holder next to him and fiddles with something.

Texting. He's texting someone.

Kurt's phone buzzes in his pocket.

Well that's just dumb. Of course Dave was texting him. The message reads: _how long you planning on sitting there. Or is that why you drove over here_

Kurt unbuckles his seatbelt with a huff. Honestly, Dave borders on rude half the time he talks to Kurt.

Kurt is above being perturbed but such petty things, however. Not when there are more important things at stake.

He steps calmly out of his car and smoothes his clothes, shutting his door firmly behind him.

If Dave is going to be borderline rude, then there's no reason for pleasantries. Kurt strides over to the passenger side of Dave's cab and tugs on the door handle.

It's locked.

Dave looks over at him for the first time since Kurt got there, and for a split second Dave fights back a laugh.

It's not funny. Kurt took time away from his own moping to be here to comfort Dave and the least Dave could do would be to have the door unlocked for him. Otherwise what's the use in Kurt attempting to be assertive and climb in Dave's cab without asking for permission?

Kurt steps up into the cab, maybe a little less gracefully than he would like to admit, and as Kurt situates himself on the seat, Dave snorts. Kurt shoots him a glare.

"Excuse me for not unlocking my door for you immediately, your highness. You don't have to get all bent out of shape about it." OK, maybe not borderline rude. More like _rude_. Also, _"your highness?"_ Inappropriate for several reasons.

Dave registers his words right as Kurt is about to chastise him for them, and he looks immediately apologetic, so Kurt chooses to be the better person and let it slide.

"Sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

"I'm overlooking it. And I'm not _bent out of shape._"

"You're right. 'Offended' is a better word."

What is Dave's problem? He's insulting Kurt, when he knows that Kurt took time out of his night that he had planned to spend quietly feeling sorry for himself (alright, maybe Dave didn't know that part) to be with him in some deserted parking lot.

"I'm not offended."

"You thought you would just get in my car all high-and-mighty and demand some sort of answers from me. Sorry, queen reference again." Dave winces. "I'm not doing it on purpose."

Kurt's nowhere near ready to discuss their prom coronation and Dave doesn't look enthusiastic about going there either.

They're probably going to need to talk about it eventually. But not now. That's not why Kurt came here.

"David," Kurt begins, speaking with purpose. He's going to get this conversation rolling.

"You know you're the only kid who calls me that?"

"Who calls you what, your name? And I'm not a kid. I'm 18 and in three months I'm leaving for New York."

"Yeah? Is your pretty little hobbit of a boyfriend going there with you?"

"Blaine's only a junior and he's not that little, or hairy-" And just like that, it hits him. What Dave is doing. Kurt takes in how bloodshot Dave's eyes are, visible even in the dim light. He registers how's Dave's voice is a little rougher than usual and how Dave's bravado doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Dave is stalling. He's baiting Kurt, and it's working.

"Stop it," Kurt says, his voice wavering.

Dave opens his mouth, presumably to ask what he's meant to stop, but Kurt cuts him off. "What's going on?" he asks, using his best sympathetic voice.

Just like that, Dave tells him. It's that easy.

"My parents were fighting. Well, my mom was fighting and my dad was sitting there staring at her like the spineless shit he is and I couldn't listen to it anymore so I left."

He makes it sound so routine. His parents were arguing and he left the house. It doesn't stop his voice from catching as he talks and Kurt thinks that he sees Dave's eyes start to glisten, so even if it is routine, it doesn't hurt any less.

Kurt wonders if anything hurts any less. If Dave has been improving at all, or if he's still in the same, dark place that he was trapped in before.

Dave looks the same as he always has. Broad and strong, with his mouth curved into a frown and his hazel eyes dark. Maybe he's more tired than Kurt is used to seeing him, but it's possible that he's always looked like that and Kurt just never noticed.

If Dave doesn't look any different, then it's likely that he doesn't feel any different either.

Kurt _really_ doesn't want Dave to try to take his own life a second time, but he doesn't think it's his place at all to ask Dave if he's been thinking about it.

"What were they fighting about?"

Dave locks eyes with Kurt, and there's definite moisture in his eyes and in his voice, a dangerous tone to his words as he answers, "What do you think they were fighting about?"

Kurt swallows, tries to keep his voice even and speak rationally. "Is your mom still-"

"A homophobic bitch?" Dave supplies, even as his voice breaks for real and the tears begin to fall.

A tiny part of Kurt is grateful that he didn't have to finish his sentence, because he had no idea what he was about to ask that would be at all appropriate. But most of Kurt _hates_ this. Hates that this isn't the first or even second time he's seen Dave break down.

"And- your dad?" Kurt asks, afraid that there's no good answer to that question either and the only thing he's going to accomplish is making Dave feel worse.

Dave shrugs and takes a deep breath, staring out the windshield. "I don't know how he feels about any of it. He either yells at me for stupid shit or avoids me completely." Dave makes eye contact with Kurt a second time, still looking pained and oddly hopeful.

He's waiting for Kurt to say something positive. To say anything that will make this better. Some small reassurance that Dave's got one of his parents on his side.

Kurt has a fantastic dad, and he knows it. His dad may not be perfect but he tries and he's honest. And he has always, always been supportive.

Kurt despises that hope in Dave's eyes. It always comes at the absolute wrong times, when Dave must know that he's not going to get whatever it is that he wants. Needs. Like a second kiss in a dirty locker room, or a hand to hold in a valentine-themed restaurant.

Kurt is determined to prove to Dave why life is worth living, but Dave has to stop looking at him with the expectation that Kurt can fix all the painful things in Dave's life. A look of anguish and longing is not going to make Kurt want to kiss Dave a second time. Dave telling Kurt that he's trying to be honest is not going to make Kurt want to hold his hand.

And Kurt being out to his dad does not mean that Kurt knows how all fathers operate. He has no idea what's going on in Paul Karofsky's head. If the distance that he's putting between him and his son means that he's learning how to be supportive or trying to let go.

Kurt turns away, because he can't think of anything else useful to do with himself. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

Dave nods again. He isn't clenching the steering wheel anymore, but he still keeps his hands wrapped around it, feeling his way up and down the leather like he finds some comfort in it. He's shaking less and working on getting his breathing under control.

When Dave speaks again, his breathing seems more normal and his words are rougher. "It wasn't about you, you know," he starts. Kurt waits patiently for him to continue. They've had such a rocky past together that Dave could be talking about practically anything. "I mean, it was partially about you but it was just me not knowing how to handle—how to handle any of this."

Dave runs a hand over his face and through his hair. He takes two deep breaths.

"I wanted you to go away so I wouldn't have to see you being out and proud like none of it mattered. Like it was possible to be proud of something that I absolutely hate. And I thought that it would be easier if you weren't there so I wouldn't have to look at you every day. But then you left and I—" Dave's voice breaks as he starts to cry again, and he's got some of that old fury in his mouth and around his eyes. Kurt knows where it's directed, though—Dave's directing it at himself. "I had the nerve to fucking miss you. Like I had any right."

"David, it's OK. We don't have to talk about this." Kurt's trying to be soothing. He's trying to take some of that self-loathing off of Dave's face. So he's surprised when Dave snaps at him.

"Stop saying that! It's _not_ OK. None of it is OK."

Dave looks even more furious than he did a second ago. Kurt is taken aback, reminded of how Dave had terrified him so much when they were both at McKinley.

But then Kurt sees that there are fresh tears running down old tear tracks, and he remembers that he's not afraid of Dave. Because the only person Dave really wants to hurt is himself.

"You're such a bitch sometimes, you know that? So fucking condescending. But you know what? The one thing that I wanted more than anything else—well, not more than being straight, but…" Dave laughs a little, but there's no humor in anything. Not in the clench of his hands, the creases in his face, the tightness of his shoulders. "I just wanted to talk to you. And I couldn't even get that right."

"You can talk to me now." Kurt reaches out and touches Dave for the second time in his entire life. He rests his hand on his shoulder, feeling the tightly wound muscles beneath the fabric of Dave's polo. (It's an atrocious piece of clothing, but it's soft and broken in.) Dave's muscles don't really relax like Kurt had been hoping (he guesses that his touch isn't _that_ magical) but they don't get any tighter, either.

Besides Kurt's hand connecting them, Dave doesn't move. He stays still and watches the parking lot through the windshield and blinks a lot.

"You've got so many more balls than I ever had."

"Pretty sure I've just got the two," Kurt says seriously. "Unless you're coming out of the eunuch closet, in which case the pitch of your voice would probably rival mine."

Dave lets out a real laugh, even if it borders on a sob from residual tears.

Laughing is better, though. No matter how much it sounds like it still hurts. Laughing has to be better.

They let the quiet moment after Dave's laugh settle in the car for a few minutes.

"David, the reason the past doesn't matter anymore is because it's past. It's behind us. I've forgiven you and we can move forward. I think you should work on forgiving yourself, too."

Dave shoots Kurt this look like he thinks Kurt has completely lost it. Whether it's because Kurt said he's forgiven him, or because Kurt thinks that Dave should forgive himself- Kurt has no way of knowing.

"It's like they say- 'You've got to put your past behind you'," Kurt says, doing his best Timone impression.

Dave keeps giving him the look.

"Come on, Lion King? Really?"

"The fuck're you talking about?"

"I know I'm not very good at impressions, but seriously? God, I've been hanging out with Sam too much."

"Didn't realize you and Sam were that good of friends."

Kurt shrugs. "His family moved but he wanted to keep going to McKinley so he's been staying with my family. He's a good person. I've been tutoring him for the SATs. He gets frustrated really easily because he's dyslexic but we're working on it."

"I know what you mean. I'm tutoring this kid in my Chem class. Nice guy, you'd probably like him, but he's got pretty bad ADD." Dave smirks at Kurt as he adds, "Actually, maybe it's better you two don't meet. Not sure the world would be able to handle it."

"The world can only handle so much fabulous," Kurt agrees. "If I'm correct in assuming that that would be the 'problem' with me meeting this guy."

Dave laughs again but doesn't elaborate.

"So… The Sportsplex?" Kurt raises an eyebrow. "You come here often?"

He can see Dave's face pinken even in the darkness. Kurt realizes a second too late that his questions came out sounding like some kind of lame pick-up line.

"Only when my parents are pissing me off."

"So, often?"

"Yeah," is the quiet reply. "The guy who owns the place, Rob, he lets me skate after hours sometimes. I used to operate the Zamboni for him, so as long as I clean up afterwards, he doesn't mind me using the ice."

"I've never been."

"Seriously? It's too late now, but I could take you sometime. Teach you. Nothing like skating on an empty rink."

Kurt smiles and it feels like the most genuine smile he's had in a long time. His most genuine smile all day, for sure. Dave looks happy talking about skating and taking Kurt with him.

Kurt spends the next hour listening to Dave tell stories of when he taught first level boys skating, and what a huge disaster that was, and how Dave was never allowed to teach a second class.

"Let's just say that, uh, I kind of have a problem with swearing and the kids went home knowing a few more words then that did that morning."

"No shit?" Kurt says.

"Shit." Dave smiles. Then adds "shit" again, for real this time, because he's looked at his clock and seen that it's almost 1:00. "My parents are probably worried."

"Worried" has got to be a huge understatement for a family whose son tried to kill himself, but Kurt doesn't mention it. His opinion of Dave's parents isn't that great, despite how wonderful Dave's dad seemed the two times Kurt met him. Maybe they need a wakeup call that their son needs something more than yelling to come home to.

Kurt refuses to leave until Dave promises him three times that he will absolutely not hesitate to call even if it's something stupid.

Kurt drives away promising himself that he's not going to give Dave to opportunity to call him first.

Kurt is determined to make this work. And in order to make this work, Kurt has got to start giving something back.


	3. Dates and Shouts

AN: You guys don't even know how giddy your reviews make me. Also, I have a tumblr now. Same user name.

Chapter 3

Dates and Shouts

Kurt's mocha has gone from almost-too-hot to lukewarm in the amount of time it takes Blaine to finish complaining about having to spend the previous day with his dad.

"…just don't get why he still treats me like 'well, he's already halfway straight, I'll just get him to stop watching those fashion shows and dancing onstage, then we can focus on sports and cars.' Like my interests have anything to do with my sexual orientation."

"_Blaine,_" Kurt starts in, drained from that one word alone. "Your dad has issues with your sexuality. We know this. Can we please talk about something else?"

"OK, fine," Blaine says, though it's clearly not fine. "Coffee's not as hot as usual."

_It would've been hot if you drank it twenty minutes ago instead of ranting to me,_ Kurt doesn't say.

Blaine glances at one of the Barista's like he's considering complaining to them about the temperature of his coffee. Kurt shakes his head when he catches Blaine's eye, and Blaine sighs. "Alright, I won't say anything."

Sometimes they know each other so well. Moments likes these where they don't even need to talk to communicate. All it takes is a simple gesture (at times not even that much). Shouldn't a relationship be easier for two people who are that close?

Even the way they sit at the table in the Lima Bean is different. They used to sit side by side, or at least next to each other around a table. Now they sit across from each other.

Kurt might be reading too much into it, but when you sit next to each other you can touch the other person. You can lean against them or casually brush your arm or leg against theirs. If your boyfriend lets you (depending on how many people are around) you can even hold his hand. Kurt thinks that by sitting across from each other now, they are immediately setting themselves up for conversation. Like friends. Not boyfriends. Sure, they could still hold hands or whatever if they wanted to, but you have to reach all the way across the table now and it's not as natural or comfortable of a gesture.

"Anyway. How was your night?" Blaine sips his cold coffee, grimacing and adding another sugar packet. He sprinkles sugar on the table as he pours it into his drink, and Kurt knows from experience that Blaine won't clean it up before they leave.

"My night was…" he hesitates. He spent a large part of the day going through his things, deciding what to take with him, then going through them a second (for some things, a third) time and reposting what he was going to bring with him and what he was going to leave behind. Then he watched Dave cry for the better part of three hours, but he has a feeling that Blaine wouldn't like hearing about that.

Kurt doesn't want to share his time with Dave. He's pretty sure that Dave wouldn't want him to, either.

Blaine looks worried, giving him puppy dog eyes as he sets his coffee down in his spilled sugar.

"It was emotional," is what Kurt settles on.

Blaine nods, knowing that Kurt had been planning on postmarking his things for transit. "Did you, um. Did you decide what you're bringing with you?"

"A few times." He sighs. "It doesn't matter. Once I leave-" Blaine looks up at him dramatically, and Kurt falters. "I mean, once I get there," he amends, "everything will be wrong anyway. I'll still come up with something that I left behind."

Blaine gives him a small, sad smile, no doubt thinking that he's the "something" that Kurt left behind. Kurt allows him to have that moment.

Everything is exhausting. Even this- coffee with Blaine at the Lima bean- feels like it's forced.

There's so much that he wants to say to Blaine. About how terrified he is of his audition next week. About how he's got this horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach that he's going to bomb it, and Rachel's going to get into the school without him. Then he'll have nothing. Nowhere to go.

He also wants to tell Blaine how young he feels. He's never felt more immature than he does right now, when the world is expecting him to grow up. Blaine probably wouldn't get that. They're in different places. Blaine is free to feel like an adult if he wants to and there's no one forcing that. He's free to feel like an adult without actually needing to grow up. Blaine has one more year to pretend to be independent.

The year difference between them has never felt more pronounced.

Everything that he wants to say is about him leaving, so it's all off the table. Blaine doesn't want to hear anything about him leaving. Blaine is content to sit and complain about his dad all afternoon because he wants to believe that's the most important thing in the world.

If it was the other way around, Kurt wouldn't want to hear about his boyfriend leaving him, so he understands that it's hard for Blaine. Kurt's leaving everyone, though. It's not just Blaine.

This whole date is just… They both have their issues, and they both need to share them with someone who's willing to listen.

They're fighting for the spotlight at a square, pressboard coffee table.

* * *

Kurt comes home from his date feeling like he's gone back to the time where he has to win Blaine's affections, only this time he's not sure he wants to do it.

Love should be easy. It should be easy and it should feel right. It shouldn't be a polite kiss in a parking lot that's nine parts habit and only one part passion. If that.

They haven't had sex in six weeks. The last time they had the chance to have sex was Friday and Kurt opted to go to their optional glee club practice that according to Blaine, no one was even going to (which wasn't true, but that's beside the point).

Kurt wasn't even disappointed about not having sex.

That's probably important, but it makes his head ache to think about it, so he tries not to.

Sam is lying on the couch in the living room with a comic. "Hey, Kurt." He lowers his book when Kurt doesn't immediately answer. "What's up?" he asks, concerned.

Kurt trudges over to the living room and plants himself in an arm chair. If he's a little more dramatic than he needs to be, it's his nature and he's been repressing himself all day.

"Bad date?" Sam closes his book and tosses it on the table in front of him.

"He just kept talking about himself. And when I switched to something about me, he acted like he didn't want me to say anything at all."

Sam sees that there's something more, because he waits for Kurt to continue before he replies.

"Is it selfish of me to think that my problems are more important than his? That was a terrible question. Don't answer that."

Sam sits up and scoots down the couch so he's closer to Kurt. "I know that you wouldn't have asked me if you didn't want me to answer. So, you want my opinion or not?"

Kurt considers this. "No. Because I can't ask for you to give me a fully formed opinion without me going into detail about everything that's been going on." Sam raises his eyebrows. "Can I ask you something else instead?"

"Sure," Sam says, sounding intrigued by the 'everything' that Kurt mentioned.

"Is Finn home?"

"Was that the question?" Sam laughs. Kurt rolls his eyes. "No, he's not here." Good, that means Finn (or worse, Rachel) won't overhear.

"Do you consider it 'cheating' if the person you're dating texts someone else and maybe the texts are somewhat flirty—or at least sound that way to the person you're dating, even if they weren't meant to be flirty?"

"OK, Kurt. I need you to tell me exactly what happened if you want my thoughts. None of this 'person you're dating' crap. This is something you did?"

"According to Blaine, I—"

"This must be what Blaine's Whitney song was about."

"'It's Not Right But It's OK'? Ugh, don't even get me started on how—"

"Details, Kurt."

Kurt tells him everything about Chandler. About how Chandler had been the first guy to express interest in him, and Chandler was going to New York too, and seemed really excited about having a friend there.

He downplays the part where one small compliment from Chandler made him feel better than five from Blaine.

"I only wanted to be friends with him. He seemed like so much fun," is Kurt's lame and whiney ending.

"You told this guy you had a boyfriend, right?"

Kurt blinks at Sam for a moment and then euphoria sets him. "No! I didn't! Sam, you're a genius! I'm going to tell him right now!" Kurt jumps up from the couch and is off to his room in a flash. Blaine probably still wouldn't like Kurt being friends with Chandler, but this time Kurt's going to make sure it's 100% innocent.

"Wait, that wasn't what I—" Kurt's already to his room when he hears Sam yell from downstairs, "You still flirted with him too!"

Doesn't matter. He's got his door closed, he's going to tell Chandler that he has a boyfriend and then he's going to casually check up on Dave.

He's going to spend an hour or two not freaking out about his NYADA audition so that he can have the rest of the day to stress out about his song choice and choreography.

He starts composing a message to Chandler: _I wanted to apologize for the abruptness of my last message. I realized that I forgot to tell you that I have a boyfriend, so I'm sorry if you were under the impression that _

He stops. Under the impression that what? Kurt was interested in him? It seems like too harsh of a way to end a casual text. Instead, he writes, _I'm sorry if I misled you, but I really want to be friends,_ and he's oddly nervous as he sends the message.

He indulges his slight anxiety for a few seconds before he tell himself that there's nothing to be afraid of. It's just Chandler. (A boy who he barely knows, but still).

He types out a message to Dave next. Something light and casual. _How are you?_

Dave's response comes fast: _Fantastic._

That's good at least. Dave's having a good day.

Wait. Is "fantastic" a word that someone in Dave's position would throw out freely? Or at all? He doesn't know Dave well enough to be able to tell.

He scrolls through his old messages from Dave. There are only a few messages, and nothing that looks too out of the ordinary for a teenager. He spells his words correctly and even uses apostrophes (but that could be Dave's phone more so than him). He leaves out the occasional auxiliary verb and texts in one or two word responses when his answers don't require a full sentence or a period, but otherwise there's nothing for Kurt to spend too much time looking at.

He goes back to the original message.

"_Fantastic."_

It would probably fall under the category of "didn't require period use" but Dave has placed one there anyway. Does that mean something?

The text seems oddly sarcastic now. Like Dave is using the punctuation to communicate tone of voice through the written word.

And Kurt is… psychoanalyzing a period.

But if there was a problem, he had made Dave promise three times that he would contact Kurt, so maybe everything was fine?

This is ridiculous.

Kurt perches himself on the edge of his bed and calls Dave.

Dave doesn't answer immediately. Kurt almost hangs up when Dave picks up with a quick, "Hey, had to get somewhere quieter."

"OK." Kurt loses focus at that. Somewhere quieter? What?

Dave pauses, waiting for more, then says, "So? You called?"

"Yeah, I wanted to make sure that you were—" Then Kurt hears it. Yelling, getting louder like the yeller is climbing a flight of stairs up towards wherever Dave is hiding. Probably in his room.

"—Would be good for him! It would be better for all of us, why can't you ever have an opinion on this? Can't you just—"

It's a female voice. Dave's mom. From what Dave's told Kurt, she's shouting at his dad.

A door slams in the distance. Kurt's getting a picture of Dave's house in his head. A two level, with Dave's bedroom upstairs and his parents' down the hall from him.

There's some more muffled shouting, covered up by the blast of some unidentifiable rock music that Finn would probably listen to.

The music seems close, but the volume is turned up so it's hard to tell.

It occurs to Kurt that Dave is probably playing the music intentionally to cover up whatever his mom is talking about. Something that would be good for Dave?

"Kurt? Are you there?" Dave knocks down the volume on his stereo and Kurt finds himself straining to hear whatever is left of the argument so that he can find a way to fix it. Some way to make it better.

The music is soft now so he assumes that the fight is over.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm here."

"And eavesdropping."

"No I wasn't!"

Dave snorts. "You're not as good of a liar as you might think you are."

This is what he gets for being nice. At least Dave is consistent.

"You- your text message- I was worried!" is what he settles on.

There's genuine confusion. "I text you 'fantastic' and you're _worried_? Shit, Kurt, you need to lighten up. It was an overstatement, yeah, but today's a lot better."

"David, since you called me out on my lie, I'm not going to pretend that I wasn't trying to overhear your parents' conversation. You're telling me that that was _better?"_

"It _was_ better," Dave promises him. Kurt crosses his arms as best as he can while holding his phone and sits in silence, not believing a word of it. "Really. They only fought for about fifteen minutes today. You called in the middle of it, that's all."

Fifteen minutes doesn't sound that bad at first, but Kurt considers the fact that it's most likely fifteen minutes of fighting about Dave and the time suddenly seems much longer.

Kurt hasn't experienced much fighting at home. He doesn't remember his mom and his dad ever fighting and most of his life it's just been him and his dad. There was that one bad fight with Finn, but it was over fast. He doesn't recall his dad or Carole ever fighting, but they haven't been together for all that long.

Fifteen minutes on one day of an ongoing fight? Does it even matter how long the fight lasts on that one day in particular when it never gets resolved? It's going to come up again. It has to, if there's no solid end to it. So how can a shorter fight make that much of a difference?

"Are you still there?" Dave asks again.

"Yes, I'm here. I just… Are you really OK? You promised that you would call or text me if something happened, and I call you and there's this _thing_ going on in the background and…" There's a burning starting up behind Kurt's eyes. "None of this is OK."

"I know that," Dave snaps. "But there's nothing I can do about it. At least not before I go to college."

"Maybe you should come over. Get out of that house. I would feel a lot better if you weren't there right now."

"Why, so you can go back to pretending that all parents are as great as yours? I'm sorry, am I ruining your preconceived notion of how accepting the world is?"

Something about Dave's anger is comforting. It's familiar. It gives him hope that Dave is fighting. If Dave is lashing out, then he's got to be fighting for something.

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to be in that kind of environment," Kurt whispers. The burning behind his eyes is getting worse.

Dave makes a sound of disbelief, like none of it matters anyway. "Why is this so important to you?"

"Because I don't want another call from you before you try to kill yourself a second time!"

Dave is silent. Kurt feels the tears on his face before his brain registered that he was crying. He chokes out a sob and wipes his eyes on his shirt sleeve, not even caring that he will have to change.

Kurt cries because Dave is struggling so hard and fighting against himself, and he's pretty sure that the only thing Dave has ever wanted was to be at peace with all of this.

He cries because he's so selfish that he told a suicidal boy that his reason for helping him was so that Kurt didn't have to get another one of those horrible phone calls. Kurt doesn't want to feeling guilty about any of this. He shouldn't have to feel guilty at all.

"OK, Kurt. You win. Text me your address. I'll be there soon," Dave says finally.

A few of Kurt's tears are all it takes for this tall, muscular athlete to sound as big as Kurt's thumb.

Kurt once thought that Dave would crush him to a pulp? Kurt could do that to Dave without even trying.

It's empowering and terrifying and Kurt dispels the feeling as far away from himself as he can, where he hopes it will never find him again.


	4. The Phantom

Chapter 4—The Phantom

Kurt runs downstairs to where Sam has resumed his comic book reading on the couch.

"Sam!"

"What's going on?" Sam asks, alarmed. "Are you OK? Your eyes are red."

"Really? Great." So much for hoping that no one would notice. "Look, Karofsky's coming over."

"OK?" Here's where the confusion really sets in. "Did I miss something? Are you guys friends now?"

"We're, um… Yes. We're friends," Kurt decides on. "Please don't be weird because of the whole suicide attempt thing."

"Be weird how?" Sam's got his comic closed now, resting in his lap. His eyes are fixed on Kurt.

"Don't, like, talk to him like he's on his deathbed. I don't know. Just act normal," Kurt pleads.

"Kurt, normal for me is treating him like he's a douchebag. Because he is. A douchebag."

"Please, Sam. He's not that bad." OK, so Kurt doesn't have much proof of this. "He's a good guy once you get to know him." And now what is he saying? Kurt barely knows Dave at all.

Sam doesn't let the lie go unheard. "How well do you actually know him?" Sam asks, dubious.

"Well enough to know that he needs friends right now." Sam nods like that's the best argument Kurt has made so far.

"That's true, but I'm not going to magically treat him like he's my friend. If that's what you're asking. I won't be, like, outright rude to him or anything. But that's the best I can do. I don't like lying and I'm not going to do it for him."

"No, that's great. Not being rude is great. And not provoking him. That's a great place to start."

"He provokes himself," Sam says, going back to his comic. "He doesn't need other people to do it for him."

Kurt lets the gravity of that sink in for a few seconds. It's obvious, of course. Dave has always been one to lash out. And you can only waste so much time trying to help someone who's resisting.

Sam turns to the next page in his book. "What are you going to do when he gets here?"

Kurt sucks in a breath. "I have absolutely no idea."

* * *

Kurt gets a message back from Chandler while he's waiting for Dave. All the text says is, _Why didnt you tell me you had a bf?_ It's not the encouraging message of renewed friendship that Kurt had been waiting for.

* * *

Kurt spends the time until Dave gets there alternating between pacing and staring anxiously at his NYADA audition sheet music. He studies _The Music of the Night_ until the notes all blur together and he starts to feel dizzy. Studying it doesn't really help him. He's been practicing this song for months in anticipation of his audition. (That didn't stop him from looking for new music to perform at his audition, though.)

Dave shows up 45 minutes after Kurt had gotten off the phone with him. Kurt had been so absorbed in his music that he had forgotten about the time, which was a good thing or else he would've wondered what was taking Dave so long and given him a call by now.

Sam is still reading his comic when Kurt answers the door.

Dave peers in the doorway, looking petrified. Kurt glances behind him to see what could possibly be so scary.

Nothing to see but Sam in the living room. Dave's not looking at Sam, though. He's looking off at doorways and stairs leading to hidden parts of the house.

Kurt steps deliberately into Dave's line of vision. "Hello?"

"Hi," Dave answers, now staring over Kurt's head and shifting so he can lean around Kurt for a better view.

Honestly. "Can I help you with something?" Kurt says sarcastically.

"Is your dad home?" Dave asks, lowering his voice.

"No," Kurt says with disbelief, using his normal inside voice. "No one else is here. OK, Sam's here, but it's just us. Stop doing that!" Kurt sidesteps so he can regain Dave's focus.

"Dude, are you going to come in or not?" Sam calls from the living room.

Dave's eyes narrow but he steps inside nonetheless.

Kurt closes the door. "What difference would it make if my dad was here?"

Dave scoffs. "Seriously? The man has like twenty reasons to hate me. Not that he needs to use all twenty. One of those reasons is probably enough to make him want to set my house on fire."

"If you think my dad is capable of arson, you clearly haven't met him. Besides, he's in D.C. until Thursday night."

Dave seems placated by this and bends down to take his shoes off (without Kurt having to ask him to). Kurt looks him over once he's out of his old tennis shoes. He's got a short sleeve button-down over some sort of graphic tee and the wash of his pants compliments his outfit decently. Dave's pants are probably a size too big, but regardless, they are at least positioned where pants are supposed to be. Kurt supposes one of two things: Either Dave actually made an effort with his clothes, or he got lucky and pulled on something that happened to go together, because Kurt doesn't remember Dave looking so casually put-together at McKinley.

"What?" Shit. He's been caught staring. "Checking to see if my clothes were good enough?"

"I wasn't," Kurt says, turning away and crossing his arms.

"Like hell you weren't," Dave smirks. It doesn't last, though. "So. You made me leave my house."

From his position on the couch, Sam snorts. "You boss Blaine around like that? Why does he put up with you?"

"I don't boss Blaine around. Shut up." Kurt's aware of his take-charge tendencies. He's also aware that Blaine appears to be immune for some reason that escapes him. Strange.

"Y: The Last Man?" Dave asks. For once, his eyes show signs of life.

Kurt's ready to ask Dave what the hell he's talking about, but something odd happens. Dave cautiously approaches Sam.

"Book six." Sam flashes the cover.

It's called _Girl on Girl_, and—"Is that soft core _porn_? What kind of comic are you reading? They can't even spell properly."

"Y chromosome, Kurt." Dave gives him a small, amused half smile. It disappears as he addresses Sam again, telling him, "Those are really good. That whole series."

"Yeah," is all Sam says, non-committal and short. He continues reading.

Sam did warn Kurt that he didn't want to fake being nice, and Sam has made himself halfway pleasant for Dave, so maybe it's best to leave Sam alone now. Expecting Sam to be friendly was clearly out of the question.

Dave gets the hint that Sam wants to be left alone and he doesn't push. He turns to Kurt for instructions.

Kurt gestures Dave into the kitchen.

Dave speaks first: "Any reason you told me to come over here, besides saving me from my parents?"

Dave wants to know if Kurt had actually wanted to spend time with him.

Kurt takes a deep breath and that's all the answer Dave needs. "That's a 'no'."

"I really do want us to be friends."

A shadow creeps over Dave's eyes but he keeps his gaze level on Kurt as he replies, "You can't suddenly be someone's friend just because you want to."

"I know that, David," Kurt snaps. He doesn't mean to—for some reason it's his default tone of voice for Dave. Dave raises his eyebrows in response, but he only looks mildly surprised by Kurt's frustration. He's accustomed to Kurt speaking to him like that.

Kurt grabs his sheet music off the kitchen table and shuffles it together. "Do you want something to drink? We could watch a movie or something. I don't know. I do have a fair amount of homework and I have to practice for this audition that—"

"Phantom of the Opera?" Dave points needlessly at Kurt's sheet music.

"Yeah. What about it?"

Dave shrugs. "Nothing. It's just my mom's favorite. I've heard all the songs about a hundred times. A hundred times more than I wanted to."

"It's for my NYADA audition."

"The fuck is a 'NYADA'?"

"New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts. And the 'fuck' you're referring to is called an 'acronym'."

Dave stares at him.

"An acronym is when—"

"I know what it is, but thanks," Dave says dryly. "Let me guess: you're singing _Think of Me_? Or wait, _Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again._ Because of your mom?" Dave had started out joking about Kurt singing Christine's songs, Kurt's fairly sure, but when Dave asks about Kurt's mom he sounds serious.

"_Music of the Night_," Kurt corrects him. "I'm not going to sing a song meant for a woman at an audition that could determine my entire future."

"Yeah, because you've never sang a girl's song before. Not even belting out Madonna at a pep rally."

"First of all, how did you know that I was singing the Madonna part of that song and not Justin Timberlake's part, and second, what's your point?"

"Point is, the Kurt who sang that song wouldn't be standing here worried about gender conformity."

"This is more than just gender conformity, this is about me getting cast in any Broadway show ever."

"Yeah? Well maybe I'm wrong. Maybe you can sing the shit out of _Music of the Night._"

"Of course I can," Kurt says, suddenly nervous.

"Prove it," Dave counters.

"Right now?"

"You said that you needed to practice. So either you force a few hours babysitting me, or you actually do what you needed to get done tonight."

"I'm not 'babysitting' you."

"Good, then you'll sing. I don't want to be babysat."

"I didn't mean—"

"Sing the damn song, Fancy."

Kurt takes a step back. He draws himself up to his full height and stiffens. "One thing I hate above almost everything else," he starts slowly, "is being emasculated. I recognize that I'm fairly effeminate—" (Dave's eyebrows pull together at that, but he doesn't comment) "but I hate being referred to in 'girly' terms and would appreciate it if you never did it again."

Dave looks completely shocked. "You think I'm emasculating you? You're wearing a bowtie and it's a Sunday afternoon. That's all I meant. You're not really dressed casually for the weekend."

Oh. Oops.

"Yeah, now you _have_ to sing that song." Dave plops himself in a chair and looks up at Kurt expectantly.

"Here?"

Dave stretches out in the chair and says flippantly, "I knew you couldn't sing that song."

"You're such an asshole Karofsky, you know that? I _can_ sing the shit out of this song. Follow me."

Fuck Dave, really, if he thinks that he can tell Kurt what he can and can't do. Kurt's his own person. Dave's not in charge of that.

Kurt practically stomps up to his room and jabs at the buttons on his stereo. He's been practicing this song every waking moment, he's got the CD and track number memorized.

He's silently fuming from Dave's accusations and from the smug look on Dave's face. Dave is holding the sheet music and scanning it as if reading it.

Kurt wants to tell Dave that he's only allowed to look so smug while perched on the edge of Kurt's bed like he's going to break it, but the song is starting.

The first few measures are pianissimo, followed by a slow crescendo. The vocals are backed by the gentle rise and fall of the orchestra.

"_Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation…_" Kurt's not in the right emotional frame of mind for this because he's trying to prove a point to Dave, but that doesn't mean that he can't sound fantastic at the same time.

Maybe his voice doesn't go as soft as it's meant to at times, but he's got the passion down.

He's feeling triumphant as Dave's face sombers.

He closes the song with the soft _"You alone can make my song take flight/ Help me make the music of the night."_

It's Kurt turn to be smug. He stole the look off Dave's face, and he's proven his point about no one telling him what he is or isn't capable of.

He crosses his arms and waits for the praise.

Dave doesn't disappoint. "You've got an amazing voice, Kurt. You know that," Dave says, staring intensely at Kurt with something that Kurt pretends isn't longing.

"But?" Kurt supplies, knowing it's coming.

"But," Dave says heavily, "I can't get behind you singing that song."

It's not even a critique. It's a flat out "no."

Kurt prepares himself for the huge "WHAT?" of indignation that's threatening to spill out of him, but it falls out of his mouth sounding meek and small.

"The Phantom is this guy who has allowed himself to become ostracized. He's pining after this girl he can never have. He lives in the shadows. He's this mysterious, terrifying person because no one has any idea who he is." Dave's eyes travel to the postmarked picture of Kurt and Blaine dancing at junior prom. His eyes stick there while he continues. "You're not right for that part. You've had too much practice standing out and sticking up for yourself to be convincing as someone that…"

"Insecure?" Kurt asks.

"Pitiful," Dave chokes. He still won't look at Kurt. He keeps his eyes locked on that picture of Kurt with his arms around his boyfriend and a crown resting jauntily on his head.

Kurt sets the picture face down and takes a seat next to Dave. Dave's got his head down and he's gripping the edge of the mattress in both hands.

It's like being in the truck all over again.

Dave draws in a breath and it's jagged and sounds like it hurts. He closes his eyes for a long moment before looking up at Kurt. His eyes are glossy and bright, full of an impossibly deep sadness that Kurt can't even imagine.

"When we were in the kitchen and I told you that you couldn't sing that song, what happened?" Dave asks like it's an important question. Vital. Some kind of turning point.

Kurt doesn't have the right answer, so he says the first honest thing that comes to mind. "You pissed me off."

Dave laughs a little but it doesn't take away any of the despair. "Exactly. You were going to do whatever you could to prove me wrong. You're assertive and you've got this fire that's one of the things that I…" Dave stops and turns away. He runs his hands over his face and is off the bed in a flash, staring Kurt down. "You can't sing that song. You're _not_ that song."

Dave rights the picture from their junior prom, almost a year ago. He points at it to further his case. "_This_ is you. Rising to the occasion. You need a song for that. They won't be able to keep you out of their school." Dave's face is open and sincere, full of admiration and some kind of awful self hatred. More than anything, Kurt wants to look away. He can't bear to see the light that Dave is casting him in compared so shrewdly to the shadow that Dave lives in.

Kurt doesn't let his eyes leave Dave's. "David, about prom. I shouldn't have tried to make you come out in front of everyone. I knew you weren't ready. It wasn't the time or the place for that." Dave shakes his head. "It was incredibly insensitive and s-selfish." Kurt's losing momentum. The anguish on Dave's face is getting to him. He takes a second to gather himself, but Dave beats him to the punch.

"The joke was on you, and you rose to the occasion and proved to everyone that you were better than that. I think you earned some arrogance that night."

"The joke wasn't only on me."

"Yeah, but you and Santana were the only ones that knew that. God, we were crowned like we were- like we were—" Dave cuts himself off. He's breathing heavily and he's got his head turned as far away from Kurt as he can get.

Kurt doesn't need Dave to finish his sentence. He knows how it ends. _Like we were a couple._

Kurt has rejected Dave twice now. He didn't even make an effort to help Dave until it very easily could've been too late. And over and over, Kurt keeps friend-zoning Dave. _I like you as a friend. I want to be your friend._

Kurt is done with this conversation. They both know how prom ended and it wasn't good. What's the point in talking about it?

Kurt's trying to think of a good change of subject, one that won't seem obviously forced, when Dave speaks again. "You know, Santana only spoke to me once after prom? She started bitching to me about how I got king and she didn't get queen, and the whole point was that she wanted to be queen." Dave has a large dose of that old anger back in his eyes, but it only magnifies the despair that was already in them. "When that ad came out about her, I tried to like, patrol my T.V. for a while so my parents wouldn't see. I thought she would like that. Fuck, all of Lima knew, but I thought she would appreciate even two people not knowing if she didn't want them to. I would've liked that." Dave faces Kurt head-on, not doing anything to conceal the tears brimming in his eyes. "I called her after I saw it. To make sure she was alright. You know what she said to me? 'I don't need your help'. And she hung up on me."

"Santana knew? You came out to her?"

"No, I didn't fucking come out to her. But she figured it out. 'We'll be each other's beards, Dave.' She fucking used me."

Kurt has never hated Santana so much in his entire life. If he made a cumulative total of all the times that he's hated Santana, it wouldn't even come close to what he's feeling right now.

Dave closes his eyes and the first tears leak out. "I thought we understood each other." Kurt understands that the "we" Dave is referring to is still Santana. "Fuck, Kurt, I really wanted to dance with you."

Kurt turns around so he can unpause his stereo, and he hates those few seconds that he has his back to Dave.

"Then dance with me," he says, hoping that he sounds more confident and put together than he feels. He offers his hand to Dave and notices that both of them are shaking.

Dave's got tear tracks down his face and he looks at Kurt like Kurt's completely lost it.

"OK, don't dance, that was a stupid idea, but just…" Kurt presses himself against Dave and wraps his arms around him, tight.

It takes Dave a second to register what's happening. When he slowly brings his arms up, it's like no one has ever hugged him before and he's not sure how it works.

Kurt crushes himself against Dave and it's the last bit of encouragement that Dave needs before he's pulling Kurt impossibly close to his chest. It almost hurts, being this wrapped up in each other. And then it does hurt. Their chests rise and fall together and each breath gets more ragged.

Dave tries to hold back, tries so hard to keep it together. But there's only so long he can last with Kurt quietly weeping into his t-shirt.

This isn't the same crying that Kurt witnessed from Dave. Dave gasps like there isn't enough oxygen to support all of the sobs and tremors that force their way out of him.

People are supposed to be there for each other. Santana and Dave, that should have been more than just a bearded relationship. The two of them should've figured this whole thing out together. They've both got this wall of anger built up around them and they lash out at everyone because they don't know how to deal with being this thing that they absolutely hate.

Initially, Santana and Dave couldn't have been more wrong for each other. But in retrospect, knowing that they were out to each other, it made all the sense in the world. If only you remove the part where Santana turned down Dave's help and left him even more alone than he already was.

Somehow they find their way to the bed, clinging to each other but more awkwardly due to their seated position. Neither of them truly calm down until the CD has long since played itself out.

Dave is big and broad, but it's not fat that makes him so bulky. Dave is an 18-year-old athlete and he's got the muscles to prove it.

And the pressure of Kurt's arms is all it takes for Dave to fall apart.


	5. Other Gay Guys

AN: You guys are all fantastic. Seriously. Thank you so much for all the wonderful comments. Some canon stuff in this chapter. Another 2 or 3 chapters I think and then I'll be done with canon (or with storylines that follow canon. I'll still try to include canon where I can fit it in easily, but it won't determine the direction the story goes in).

Chapter 5- Other Gay Guys

Kurt is making strong lemon tea in the kitchen when Finn finally comes home.

"Dude, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Finn," he says, voice cracking. His throat is scratchy like he swallowed sand. "Can you just leave me alone please?"

"Not until you tell me what's wrong." Finn takes a seat at the kitchen table.

Kurt knows from experience that Finn's going to wait him out. He also knows that Finn is a good guy (maybe a little dense at times) and that usually malice doesn't even factor for him.

Finn is honest and open, albeit for slightly different reasons than Kurt is. Kurt is honest often to the point of rudeness, whereas Finn is honest because he's got no reason to lie, and often doesn't bother taking the time to come up with a good one.

If he told Finn not to say anything to anyone, Finn might still tell Rachel and that's his only concern. Because Rachel's friends with Blaine and there's the possibility that this might get back to him.

Not that there's anything to hide.

Kurt squeezes an ungodly amount of honey into his tea. It's going to taste awful, but it will coat his throat and he can't risk the possibility of not being able to sing tomorrow. He already can't practice anymore tonight, but Dave told him that his song choice was awful anyway, so what difference does it make? He knows the song inside and out to the best of his ability and if he can't sing it, he can't sing it.

"Are you seriously going to drink that?" Finn frowns.

"Yes. I really don't want to get into it right now, Finn."

"You look like you've been crying." So much for the cold compress he applied right after Dave left.

Sam walks into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water and takes in the way Finn is seated at the table, and how Kurt is hovering by the door with his steaming mug of honey-water.

"What's going on?" he asks as he takes a deep drink of his water.

Finn looks pointedly at Kurt, and for him that's quite an accomplishment.

"It's my business; can you both stay out of it please?" His head is throbbing, his eyes are puffy and he's got an essay to finish for AP English.

Sam refills his water and leans against the counter. "So now it's a secret? Probably not something you should keep from Blaine, if he's already getting mad at you for hanging out with other gay guys."

"Wait, wait, wait. Kurt, are you hanging out with _Sebastian_? Because Blaine definitely wouldn't like that, not to mention, incredibly hypocritical—" Finn checks with Sam to make sure he got the word right, and Sam nods. "Yeah, very hypocritical of you."

"I would never let that walking STD anywhere near my home. It was David." Kurt blows on his tea and takes a small sip. The honey is almost overwhelming and the tea feels like it's halfway to syrup as it slides across his tongue.

Finn frowns. Clearly "David" is not a name that he immediately associates with anyone.

Sam and Kurt exchange a look, waiting patiently. They're used to this.

"Isn't that one of Blaine's Warbler friends? I think Blaine would know if his own friend was gay or not."

Kurt tries and fails to come up with a time that Finn had actually learned any of the Warblers' names besides Sebastian and Blaine. Weird.

"Karofsky," Sam corrects him.

The effect that the name has on Finn is immediate. "What? Did he hurt you? Is that why you're upset? How did he find out where you live?"

Finn shoots out of his chair and over to Kurt, examining his face as if searching for signs of an attack.

"Kurt invited him over."

"Don't you have word cards to study?" Kurt shoots Sam a death glare. Kurt had spent a lot of time carefully crafting flash cards for Sam for his SAT prep. They have been largely ignored.

"Yeah, but this is so much more interesting."

"If you want to get scholarships—"

"Why is Karofsky coming over here? And why didn't anyone check with me first?"

"This really isn't about you, Finn," Kurt says.

Finn looks to Sam for back up, but Sam just shrugs. "Not your call, dude. Besides, you weren't home." That's not a good enough answer for Finn.

"I still don't get it. You guys go from being mortal enemies to spending your weekends together?"

Kurt sighs. He supposes that he should get used to this attitude. Finn is oversimplifying it, of course, but it _is_ what Kurt and Dave did, from an outside perspective.

Finn knows that Dave had apologized to Kurt in an office with adult supervision. Finn witnessed the insincere apology that Dave delivered to Glee (which Mercedes told Kurt had sounded suspiciously scripted). Finn doesn't know about the actual, heartfelt apology that erupted out of Dave, seemingly without his permission.

Blaine is the only one who Kurt has told about these private moments with Dave, and even Blaine doesn't know everything.

Blaine would recall Dave and Kurt's interactions as follows: Dave harassed Kurt. Dave stole a kiss from Kurt. Dave threatened Kurt's life. Dave apologized to Kurt, but it will never be enough to make up for what Dave did.

It's ironic to think that Blaine and Dave would have a lot to agree on.

So Blaine knows some things, yes, but that doesn't mean that Kurt can't make a whole list of the things that Blaine doesn't know. Blaine has seen Dave's temper (most people have) and he's seen his cockiness, but that's as far as it goes.

Kurt is fairly certain that no one besides him knows what hope looks like in Dave's expressive hazel eyes. And he's pretty sure that no one else has felt Dave's biceps encircling them while Dave clings on, waiting for any form of reassurance he can get.

Out of the solid facts that Kurt has relayed to Blaine about his bullying experience, Finn knows about half, and Sam even less.

It shouldn't be a surprise that they want to know what's going on when Kurt starts inviting his ex-bully over to their house.

Kurt is going to make this as easy and simple as he can. Maybe it will make more sense to him that way, too.

He swallows some more of his tea to help soothe his wrecked throat. "You both know that David is gay and that he tried to kill himself." Sam and Finn nod. Unfortunately, this is common knowledge. "I first learned that David was—is— gay, a year and a half ago."

He waits for the shock to set in. Surely this will come as a surprise to Finn and Sam.

Finn looks at him, curious.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Sam asks.

"I could've done something. I could've gotten him to talk to someone. I could've given him numbers for suicide prevention hotlines. Instead, I watched him suffer. I've been completely apathetic to this whole thing." Kurt says it all like he's removed from it. He's a thousand miles away and he's cried himself out.

Finn walks over to Kurt and puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. He looks Kurt straight in the eye while he tells him, "You don't have to be the one who _fixes_ him, Kurt."

Finn's gaze is heavy. It's a look that makes Finn seem so much more mature that he acts the majority of the time. It's uncomfortable and Kurt feels oddly transparent, locked in the earnestness on Finn's face.

In theory, Kurt is aware that he doesn't have to teach Dave how to be happy all on his own. Ultimately, it would be near impossible for him to do that, not to mention, unhealthy for both of them.

Theory doesn't always mix with reality.

"I know that," he answers anyway.

"You said you feel responsible," Sam reminds Kurt, "that doesn't mean you are."

"Maybe not. But it still makes me the only person's who's doing something about it."

Kurt stalks out of the kitchen, too tired to try for even a fraction of his usual flair.

He had acted like he was responsible, yes. He's trying to make up for that.

But that doesn't make all the other people who abandoned Dave accept him. It doesn't make Dave anymore loved now than he was two days ago.

* * *

He tries writing the conclusion to his essay about five times, before his headache worsens and he starts to feel dizzy from staring at his computer screen.

He gives up. He's got a solid 'A' in his English class, he's not too concerned about the paper. He can always get up a few minutes early and whip out some sort of conclusion then. If half of his class can get away with that behavior, then it's good enough for him. Just this once.

He's stuck thinking about Dave and the moments that he manages to not think about him, he spends focused on his NYADA audition on Thursday.

Whether he thinks about being completely unqualified to help a suicidal almost-friend, or about how he's totally unprepared for his audition, he's fucked.

He needs someone removed.

Everyone at McKinley knows about Dave and he hasn't kept in touch with any of the Warblers, so calling them now would be completely out of the blue.

He's only got one person who could act as a potential confident, and he's not even sure where he stands with him. They certainly acted like friends, yes, but that was only for a couple days and it was put to an abrupt end thanks to Blaine.

Kurt dials anyway. He's made sure that Chandler knows that he has a boyfriend. He isn't doing anything that he should be ashamed of. Kurt is certainly not going to break up with Blaine and run off to be with Chandler.

He's searching for some form of friendship and that's it.

Kurt shuts down his computer and leans back in his desk chair, laying a hand over his eyes to block out excess light.

Chandler answers after four rings. "Hello?" he says, sounding wary. Kurt can't blame him for that.

"Hi, Chandler."

"You know, you never answered my text message."

"I know I didn't, and I'm sorry about that. It's complicated."

"Is that why you're calling me? To tell me that it's 'complicated'?"

"No, that's not it." Kurt gets up and turns off his light. He lays down on his bed, hoping that the newfound darkness and cool sheets will help him think.

"Well? Then what is it?"

"I have a boyfriend, yes, and I should have made that clear."

"Yes, you should have. I'm an assertive person, I realize that, and I think it was pretty clear from the messages that I sent you. But you responded positively to all those texts and we certainly don't know each other very well, but it doesn't exactly paint you as someone who is in a healthy, committed relationship. So can we just be frank with each other here?"

This isn't the conversation he wanted, even if he supposes it was inevitable.

He's sick of justifying his actions to everyone around him.

"It's complicated," he repeats.

"Then _un_complicate it." Chandler waits a few seconds for the explanation that does not come and adds, "There's nothing preventing me from hanging up on you right now."

"Blaine and I have been dating for over a year," Kurt blurts out. He pauses and Chandler doesn't interrupt so Kurt must have his attention. "Blaine and I have been dating for over a year," he says again, more calculated. "And I guess the newness has worn off. So when you acted like you were interested in me, it had been a long time since I'd seen that from anyone." _As long ago as Valentine's Day_, he tries to block his brain from thinking. "The short version is I took advantage of you to make up for what I was lacking in my own relationship and I'm sorry."

"It wasn't a very nice thing for you to do, but I can't say that I was holding my breath waiting for you to return my advances. I've moved on to someone else. Don't think you can get away with that kind of behavior in the future," he warns.

"I won't," Kurt promises. "So tell me about this guy who's more fabulous than I am?"

"'Fabulous' isn't a word I would use to describe him." Chandler laughs. "But he's gorgeous."

"Tall, dark and handsome?" Kurt asks.

"Mm… more like tall, handsome and smart."

The conversation isn't about Kurt. It's not his chance to whine about his audition or complain about how this decent guy has no friends other than him.

It's a distraction, though, and it's completely welcome. It's what he needs.

He gets to giggle over some mystery guy with his new friend. His new friend who is also going to New York, and who knows that Kurt is taken.

"You realize I'm going to live vicariously through you with this, right? It's been so long since I've been interested in another guy."

"Ouch," Chandler says, but he doesn't sound too wounded. "Don't get too attached. I move on fast."

"Does this guy play for our team?"

"Probably not. There's not a whole lot known about him. But I almost don't care, as long as I get to look at him."

* * *

The next twenty minutes pass with Kurt and Chandler casually discussing past crushes. It's relieving in a way that Kurt wasn't expecting—just being able to talk to another gay guy about men that he's liked, without any sexual context, and without worrying about them hurting each other's feelings. It's the first time he's had the opportunity.

There's nothing wrong with discussing guys with Mercedes and Rachel, but it's not the same. And he could never talk about guys with Blaine. Before they were dating he avoided the subject because he was interested in Blaine, and now he avoids it because it makes things awkward between him and his boyfriend.

"You remember when we met at the music store," Kurt casually says, "and I told you that I was looking for audition music?"

"Of course! What did you pick?"

"I got the sheet music to a bunch of different songs, but I'm afraid that none of them are right. And I've been practicing _Music of the Night_ for the last few months. Suddenly it seems wrong for me."

"_Music of the Night_ is classic," Chandler gushes. "What are your other choices?"

"I have _Today 4 U_ but I don't want to dress up in drag. I want to be seen as _me_, you know?"

"Granted, I haven't heard you sing, but I bet you would sound fantastic singing _Today 4 U._ Do you play drums, by any chance?"

"My brother does and he could probably teach me something, but nothing substantial in the next four days."

"Hmm…" Chandler thinks for a moment. "I think that song is out, then. If you don't want to dress in drag and can't play drums, then you won't be able to do that song justice."

"Such a great song though," Kurt whines.

"It is," he agrees. "I've got this song I've been working on for a while now, and I just don't think I'll be able to pull it off as completely as I'd like to, but hope dies hard and I'm going to keep trying. Have you heard of _The Boy From Oz_?"

* * *

Kurt pulls up youtube on his computer. He's familiar with the title of the musical but hasn't listened to any of the songs.

He searches for "Not the Boy Next Door."

And it's amazing. It's provocative, it's in his range and he could come up with the best modern day chic outfit to play Peter Allan.

But he doesn't have three weeks to spend perfecting it.

He shuts down his computer.


	6. Crescendo

AN: I'm so ready to be done with canon but I couldn't ignore this, because it's vital to Kurt's future. After this, I'm almost done integrating canon. Also, I'm stoked for chapter 7. Get ready to meet an original character.

Chapter 6- Crescendo

The first thing Kurt does after school on Monday is go to Between the Sheets to get the music for _Not the Boy Next Door_.

Blaine is boxing in the gym after school and Rachel is no doubt practicing for her own audition.

He's on his own for a while.

He listened to the song a few times on youtube, so he knows the basic melody.

Their upright piano is tucked away in their family room next to Finn's drum kit. Finn and Sam are both out playing baseball and Carole's flight won't get in until later that night, so he'll be alone for at least a couple hours.

He plays through the song three or four times before he gets really frustrated.

It's not working. He doesn't know what he's doing with this song, and between this and _The Music of the Night, _this one should be the better choice but he feels like he's neglecting the song that he's spent three months perfecting.

He plays through _Music of the Night_ instead.

It's bland. Whatever life he was able to put into that song has been eradicated thanks to Dave.

The really irritating thing is that _Not the Boy Next Door_ should be his song. It was practically written for him. But it feels like an old version of himself—a memory.

Certainly not the version of himself that is expected to turn into an adult and move away from all of his family and friends.

He calls Chandler to complain to him about the song, and also to ask for help. After all, the reason that Kurt found out about the song in the first place was because Chandler said that he was working on it.

Chandler doesn't answer.

He calls Dave to ask him if this song might be wrong for him too.

No answer there either.

_Not the Boy Next Door_ indeed. He's already expected to figure this out on his own. No one is around to help him.

He spends a half an hour just playing his piano. There's a keyboard that's going with him to New York, but he's going to miss playing his old upright. He learned on this piano, sitting next to his mom while she sang quietly in his ear. A small, private song that was just for him.

Her voice was so beautiful. It was soft and refined. A smooth alto. She was capable of belting out a song with the best of them, but Kurt liked her best when she sat by him on the piano bench and whispered the songs to him like a secret.

He kept those moments to himself. A song sung only to him, his mom's fingertips guiding his own across the well-worn keys, traces of her perfume scenting the air around them with jasmine.

He's been neglecting his piano playing.

The piano suddenly feels like such a big part of his mom's memory and he has so few things to distribute her memory with. It would be ridiculous to bring the piano with him to New York, not when he's got a perfectly good keyboard that travels much easier than an upright piano ever would, but that doesn't stop it from suddenly feeling like a betrayal to leave the piano in Lima.

He sits up straight and stretches out his arms. He plays.

They're not any of the songs that he would play to make himself a better pianist and they certainly aren't going to help him with his NYADA audtion. He plays songs from the beginning. Songs that he learned with. _Chopsticks_, _Heart and Soul_, _Ode to Joy_.

He enables the nostalgia welling up inside him. He pretends that he can be a child for a little bit longer.

He doesn't have to worry about moving out of the state, or helping depressed friends, or rekindling a fading romance. It's just him, his mom, and black and white piano keys.

He closes his eyes and it smells like jasmine.

* * *

Dave calls him back about an hour later. Normally he hates being interrupted when he's practicing, but there's only so many times that he can play _Chopsticks_ before it becomes blatantly obvious that he's procrastinating.

He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and answers his phone.

"Hey," he manages, "what's up?"

"Dunno. You called me."

"Yeah. I did." Kurt laughs and it's only mildly hysterical.

"Are you OK? You sound kinda… upset."

"Sorry. I've just been planning how to fit an upright piano into the back of my Navigator."

"Right," Dave says, like this answer makes any sort of sense to him. "I had tutoring, so."

"I forgot. That you had that. I didn't know when it was, but it makes sense that you would have that. And that's why you didn't answer."

"Yeah, that's it." Dave sounds wary as he adds, "Why did you call me? You don't need help moving a piano, do you?"

"No, nothing like that. This is going to sound weird, but can you come listen to me sing?"

"Right now?"

Kurt hears voices coming from Dave's end. His mom and his dad, and it doesn't sound like either one of them is yelling. That's a plus, though it doesn't make Dave sound any more enthusiastic about coming over. Maybe he's getting along with his parents now and wants to spend the evening with them.

"If you want to stay at home I understand. Or if you're busy. Surely you have other more important things to do."

"No, nothing's more important," Dave says, completely sincere. "I just have some shit to figure out here really fast and then I'll come, OK?"

"OK, great!"

"Don't get all excited about this. Remember yesterday when I told you your song choice was shit?"

"That's exactly why I need you."

"That doesn't make any sense, but whatever. Be there soon." Dave hangs up.

* * *

Dave shows up at his door twenty minutes later and he's back to being weird at the doorway.

Kurt has to remind him that his dad is gone until Thursday and assure him that they're alone in the house before Dave releases the breath he had been holding and walks in the doorway.

There's an awkward moment where Kurt isn't sure whether or not he should hug Dave. Dave doesn't make a move towards hugging Kurt and seems more uncomfortable with being in the house in general than he does about not receiving the hug, so Kurt tries to stop dwelling on it.

Kurt and Dave have been in each other's personal space plenty of times but there was never anything casual about it. Angry shoves into lockers, bitter kisses in a sour locker room, clinging to each other and weeping in Kurt's bedroom—nothing is lighthearted about any of it.

There's been an edge to everything. All of these harsh emotions: hate, despair, resentment, unrequited love—they're all coupled with a touch.

Kurt stays a step back. He pulls the stool out from behind Finn's drum kit and invites Dave to sit while he takes his place on the piano bench.

"My friend told me about this song," he starts, "and I thought it might be good for my audition. I doubt that I need to remind you to give me your honest opinion, based on the way you shot down my song yesterday."

Dave offers him a small smile while suddenly looking nervous and slightly pained. He hunches down on his stool and nods for Kurt to continue.

Kurt almost belittles him for his horrible posture, but Dave came over solely to listen to him sing, so he lets it go.

He plays a few warm-up measures and quietly thanks Dave for coming over.

"You asked me to," Dave replies like it's the most obvious answer in the world.

Kurt sings. He belts out the song, compensating volume for the emotional integrity that he can never quite manage.

He's loud, but he's not _powerful_.

Dave waits for him to finish and refuses to say anything until Kurt has turned around and made eye contact with him.

"Well?" Kurt demands, panting.

Dave starts and stops saying a couple different things, then shakes his head. "I'm trying to figure out what's wrong."

"That's reassuring," Kurt says, folding his arms and crossing his legs.

"You want me to praise you? Fine. You have a great voice. I said it yesterday and I'll say it again. This is a much better song for you." Dave hesitates and corrects himself. "This _would_ be a better song for you if it didn't sound so fucking forced."

"Wow," Kurt says, dry. "What great criticism. I'll just saunter up onstage and timidly sing my song. That'll get me into college."

"No, dude, that's not what I mean." Dave stops and snickers at the look on Kurt's face. "What, you don't like 'dude' either?"

"It's better than other things."

"Like 'Fancy,'?" Dave smirks.

Kurt raises his eyebrows. "Did you have a point?"

"Yes, _brethren_."

"Isn't that plural?"

"Shut up. My _point_ was that you don't sound like you think you can sing this."

"Because I don't think I can!" Kurt exclaims as he stands up from his bench and gestures with his arms wide.

There's the truth about why Kurt couldn't get the song right. He visibly slumps, head down, ashamed.

"Kurt, look at me." Dave reaches out like he's going to raise Kurt's chin, then drops his hand once he figures out what he's doing.

Kurt meets his gaze. Dave's eyes are slightly glazed over and one corner of his mouth raises up in a pseudo half smile. He looks sad and sweet. Endearing.

"You want to know why you made a killer cheerleader? Better than three-quarters of the other guys on the squad in your first week alone, and most of the guys were back from the year before."

Kurt shakes his head.

"Because you knew that you could do it. You strode the halls like you were the toughest shit to ever hit McKinley. Fuck, you already owned the school, but strap a Cheerios uniform to you? You could take on the entire state. Just you and that uniform."

Kurt closes his eyes and remembers how that uniform felt. The way it scratched and itched his skin. How baggy the pants were. The sense of dread that he was filled with every time he looked down and saw those black, white and red letters inscribed across his chest.

"I was terrified all the time. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing."

"Really? Because to me you just looked confident."

"I had something I wanted. A chance in the spotlight."

"Then you need to figure out a way to turn this song into something you want and not just a tool for getting what you want."

Kurt nods. That makes sense. "How do I do that?"

"Fuck if I know."

Kurt sinks back down on the piano bench. "David, can I ask you something?"

Dave nods but he looks guarded, like he's not sure what he's getting himself into.

"Are you scared?" He chides himself even as he asks the question. Dave told him that he thought Kurt looked confident, and Kurt admits defeat by willingly telling Dave have terrified he is.

"Of what?" Dave doesn't laugh. He doesn't treat the question as anything other than serious.

"_Everything,"_ Kurt wants to say, but his throat closes off. He can't cry. _He can't cry._ If he cries again then his voice is going to be shot and he can't afford to lose another day's worth of practice because he's obsessing over things that don't matter. Not yet.

"Kurt? Are you alright?" Dave touches Kurt's knee just long enough for Kurt to acknowledge him, then retracts his hand.

Kurt shakes his head. "Are you afraid," he starts again, focusing on his breathing, (in through his nose, out through his mouth,) "of what happens next? After graduation. Saying goodbye to all your friends and—and growing up—" Kurt gives up. If he keeps talking then he's definitely going to cry.

Dave examines the carpet at his feet while he thinks of an answer. He raises his eyes, not quite to Kurt's eye level, and focuses on some spot on the piano behind Kurt. He's solemn and detached while he says, "What's left to be afraid of?"

Could Kurt have thought of a more insensitive question for Dave? As far as Kurt knows, Dave's still unsure where he stands with his parents. Everyone knows all of Dave's secrets and none of the people who were supposed to be Dave's friends want anything to do with him. And Kurt wants to know if Dave is afraid of growing up? Dave didn't want to grow up at all. He was ready to be _done._

"I'm so sorry, I didn't—" He squeezes his eyes shut, scrunching up his entire face against the wave of despair that's threatening to break free.

Kurt covers his face with both hands until he can get himself under control.

It's no use. Dave has already seen the horrible, selfish person that lives inside Kurt.

"Kurt," Dave repeats, slowly and carefully. "Are you OK?"

"You shouldn't be the one to ask me that!" Kurt half-shrieks, his throat straining.

Dave's voice has a sense of urgency when he speaks again. Kurt's still got his eyes covered so he doesn't have to see the hurt on Dave's face. "Don't minimize what you're going through because you think it's not worth—" Dave's phone rings. It's some rock song, unidentifiable to Kurt because the vocals are peaking in the tiny speakers and the background music is tinny. "Shit, I have to take this."

Kurt lowers his hands. Dave frowns while he pulls his phone of out his pocket, but it's with none of his usual anger. He looks resigned. Obedient and disappointed.

"Hey," Dave speaks quietly, "I lost track of time."

The person on the other end murmurs something and Dave's frown deepens. "I told you I was going to a friend's house, we were just talking and I forgot to check my watch."

A pause, and Dave's voice quivers while he adds, "I know you're scared." Dave is trying so hard to be soothing and strong for the person on the other end of his phone call.

Muffled yelling this time. Something that sounds like "Come home _now_!"

"OK Dad, I'm leaving. It'll be ten or fifteen minutes, I dunno." He hangs up the phone and mechanically deposits it back in his pocket.

Dave studies Kurt's shoes. "I have to go," he whispers.

"I heard," Kurt whispers back.

"I was late coming back from my chem tutoring," Dave offers, "and my parents freak out if I'm later than I say I'm going to be. So twice in one day…"

His parents think that one of these days he might not come back.

Dave stands up and makes to leave the room when Kurt hand on his arm stops him in his tracks.

Kurt stands and Dave spins around to face him.

"You don't have to come over just because I asked you to. You can say no, if you've got more important things. Or if you're fighting with your parents."

Dave's eyes are over bright, green. He smiles and it's almost nonexistent but somehow more real than so many of the other smiles he's dredged up for Kurt. "I wanted to," he says.

"Who knew David Karofsky could be so sweet."

Dave scans Kurt's face and his little smile turns bittersweet. His eyes darken and he clears his throat. "Yeah, well."

This time Kurt does hug Dave. It's slightly uncomfortable because Dave his stiff and immobile. Kurt doesn't give up easily, though. He waits.

"You don't have to keep hugging me because you feel sorry for me."

Kurt presses his face against the plaid fabric of Dave's shirt. He smells like laundry detergent, some kind of sports deodorant and something else that Kurt can't quite place.

"Maybe I'm inherently selfish and I'm hugging you for me. Because I needed a hug."

It's half of a lie, but Kurt's not sure that Dave catches onto that or not.

Dave brings his arms up and the two of them meld together.

* * *

Finn, Sam and Carole come home sometime after dinner. Kurt works on memorizing the piano part to _Not the Boy Next Door_ so that he can focus on the lyrics and dynamics.

Carole goes to check on him and let him know that she's home.

He tries his hardest not to snap at her when she offers to listen to him if he needs an audience.

Kurt loves Carole but she's not that musically minded (her and his dad have that in common) so her listening to him sing would end with her telling him how wonderful he is.

Having a step mom is so much nicer than he could have ever imagined. She's never going to be his real mom and for the most part she doesn't try to be. Maybe in a day or two he'll let her sit and watch him sing, but not now. Not when she's going to tell him he's great, and even though she would say it with complete sincerity, Kurt would know that she's wrong.

Sam and Finn both avoid him. Finn has no doubt seen a completely insane side of Rachel over the last few days while she rehearses _Don't Rain on My Parade_ even though she's already flawless at it. Kurt's fairly certain that Finn warned Sam not to go near Kurt.

They both smile at him encouragingly when they pass him at home, but that's as close as they get.

They stay out of his way.

A wise decision.

* * *

The next day is Tuesday. Kurt practices _Music of the Night_ after school with Tina because he's supposed to. Blaine tells him that he's perfect, he'll do great at the audition, don't worry about it.

It's sweet of Blaine to say so. He registers that Blaine is trying to be supportive of him and that Blaine is making more of an effort to be OK talking about New York related things.

It's still frustrating because he knows the song is boring and he wants other people to admit it as well.

Blaine blabs to Rachel that Kurt is thinking about doing another song and Rachel approaches him to try to talk him out of it.

"You haven't rehearsed it enough," she says when he mentions _Not the Boy Next Door_.

OK, she's right about that. He hasn't. But he feels like he's _over-_rehearsed _Music of the Night_ and sucked the life out of it. Whatever life he was able to muster while singing the song.

He loves Rachel, he does, but sometimes he wants the old Rachel back from freshman year. The one who he hated and who hated him because they had so much in common that they clashed.

That Rachel wasn't afraid to hurt his feelings. She would have told him what she really thought of his song.

He plays _Not the Boy Next Door _until his fingers practically play the song in his sleep and he finds himself mouthing the words unconsciously.

He's going to sing the song because he _can_ and not just because he wants to.

Dave texts him to ask how the song is going and Kurt writes back _Ugh_, so Dave must have an idea of how exhausted Kurt is, considering he has abandoned any attempt at regaining his usual finesse.

By Wednesday he's completely determined to do that song justice. He's learning how to relax into it. He still has _Music of the Night_, but it's starting to feel like a second choice.

It should have been a second choice all along.

He sings _Not the Boy Next Door _because he's going to prove to Blaine and Rachel that he can do this song more justice with four days of practice than he can with three months practicing _Music of the Night._ He belts it out with real strength behind it, because he should be able to sing this song and Dave knows it too.

Blaine and Rachel didn't want to hurt his feelings and he respects that.

But he doesn't need to be protected.


	7. Center Stage

AN: As always, thank you for all of the wonderful reviews.

If anyone is interested, I'm going to be posting some original stories that I've written on tumblr. Same user name. Thanks everyone!

One last thing—I'm considering continuing _Our Past Selves Left Behind_ (oh no what am I committing to). Thoughts? Who would be interested? Obviously it would be extremely AU. I think it starts before the superbowl episode.

Chapter 8 will be the one that I was most excited about. Sorry for the delay.

* * *

Chapter 7—Center Stage

Kurt wakes up before his alarm Thursday morning and spends a good ten minutes trying to process all of the emotions running through his body.

His heart is beating faster than normal and feels restrained, like his stomach is wrapped around it. That would explain the painful, nauseas clenching.

He doesn't think he's been this nervous in his entire life.

He's got his choice of two potential songs to sing. One is under rehearsed but clearly the better choice. The other one he can sing better technically but not emotionally.

His audition is set at 11:00, just ten minutes before Rachel's. It's 6:00am and in slightly over five hours this whole thing will be over.

It doesn't make him feel any better. Because it won't really be over. This one moment is the turning point for the rest of his life after high school. It's everything he's wanted and he's been slacking off. Four days rehearsing _Not the Boy Next Door_ and he thought that that would be sufficient to get him into NYADA?

Realistically, he doesn't have any songs at all. He may as well go up and sing _Old McDonald_.

He has an outfit laid out from the night before and when he pulls it on after his shower, he feels like he's sliding into someone else's skin.

These are the clothes of a person who strode the halls at McKinley acting like he was too big for the school. That attitude, that level of confidence was so easy to sustain when he didn't have to convince anyone except himself. Maybe he's still too big for Lima, but New York is large enough to swallow Lima and Kurt without even breaking a sweat.

And now he's expected to go onstage and prove to someone else that he's ready to singlehandedly take on New York. If this whole experience doesn't test his acting abilities, then he doesn't know what does.

* * *

Carole is cooking sausages in the kitchen when Kurt emerges from his bedroom. He took his time getting ready, moving slowly to try and make time stop, but he still has a half an hour before he has to leave for school.

"Sweetie, do you want some breakfast?" Carole scoops the sausages out of the frying pan and onto a plate, blotting off some of the grease with paper towels.

Kurt shakes his head.

Carole sets the plate on the table in front of him anyway. The smell invades his nostrils and his stomach clenches even tighter.

"You should eat something," she says. She's such a good mom. Gentle and supportive and worried.

"I really can't eat anything right now Carole, but thank you."

Carole comes up with some sort of smile for him, but it only makes her look more concerned than she already was. "OK. Let me know if you want something and I'll get it for you."

She hugs him, leaning her head against his. Normally that would bug the crap out of him because it flattens his hair (annoying on a regular basis but especially bad right after he's taken the time to fix it) but he leans back against her.

"You'll do great," she whispers. "And if your dad was here he would tell you the same thing. You're so talented and we're both so proud."

"Thanks," Kurt answers dutifully. Carole and his dad are parents. It's their job to tell him he's wonderful even when he doesn't feel like it. Not only that, but neither one of them knows a sharp from a flat. Still, it's a small comfort that he's got at least two people on his side in case he completely bombs this thing.

Carole pulls back, grabbing a sausage for herself and yelling up the stairs, "Finn! Sam! If you boys want breakfast you better hurry up!"

* * *

Finn, Sam and Kurt all ride to school together and normally Kurt drives because it's his car. Today, he exits the house first and climbs in one of the back passenger seats.

Finn and Sam pile in the car a few minutes later and Finn is only mildly surprised that he's expected to drive.

Sam turns around in the front seat and tells Kurt, "You'll kill this. I know it." He slaps Kurt's knee and faces forward again.

"You've got this in the bag," Finn adds.

Kurt murmurs a "thanks" and stares out the window. "How's Rachel?"

Finn starts the car. His silence in the only answer Kurt needs.

* * *

Blaine meets him at his locker.

"How're you holding up?" he asks with what most people would assume is an over exaggerated look of sympathy. Kurt knows from experience that one of Blaine's main personality traits is "exaggerate" so Blaine's expression doesn't faze him.

"I feel sick. Maybe I need to go to the hospital. Then my audition will have to be postponed and I can reschedule."

"You hate hospitals," Blaine reminds him as he reaches down for Kurt's hand. "Besides, I don't think rescheduling is a viable option."

"I want this to be over," Kurt whines.

"You'll have me in the audience. And Finn and Mr. Shue. So when you're up there and you're nervous, you can look out and see us sitting there."

"You know as well as I do that when you're onstage you can't really see the audience through the bright lights."

"Kurt," Blaine laughs, "I'm trying to help you relax. Stop contradicting everything I say."

Kurt takes his hand back. "Telling me to 'relax' is not going to help me right now." He storms off to class leaving Blaine in his wake, and Kurt can feel Blaine's wide-eyed and confused stare following him as he turns the corner.

* * *

Classes pass by against his will, and before he knows it it's 10:40 and he's been excused from class ten minutes early so that he can prepare for his audition. He has twenty minutes to run to the auditorium, change into his costume and start warming up.

He has a text message from Dave. It reads, _Beak a leg or whatever they say_

Kurt writes back to him, _Is it possible to be starving and feel like you're going to throw up at the same time?_

Dave replies fast. _Are you pregnant?_

Kurt almost cries at that ludicrous question, that's the state of mind that he's in. Instead of texting back, he calls Dave. It's easier to talk when he's running through the halls than to text and not watch where he's going. Running into something and giving himself a black eye would just be the icing on the cake at this point.

Again, Dave answers immediately. "You're lucky we have break at the same time," he greets Kurt.

"David. David. I'm freaking out. Help me. I haven't decided on a song and I'm supposed to go and sing like I know what I'm doing, but I don't, not really," Kurt pants, weaving in and out of the people whose teachers have let them out a few minutes early for lunch.

"Kurt, you can do this," Dave says. It's the first time that Dave has ever said something positive to Kurt with that much conviction. Dave's voice is low and intense, and it vibrates through Kurt's ear.

"I don't know. I don't know what song I'm singing. Or trying to sing, because I'm not going to be able to sing at this point."

Kurt stops outside the double doors leading to the auditorium.

This hall of the school is empty. Only the gleeks would come here and they're all going to be in the cafeteria eating lunch together. Well, everyone except for Rachel, Finn and Blaine, but they're probably inside already.

Kurt leans against the cool metal of the double doors. He closes his eyes and for a moment there's only Dave's voice in his phone and the chill of the doors seeping through his shirt.

"You're going to sing _Not the Boy Next Door_—"

"But everyone thinks that I should _Music of the Night_. Blaine and Rachel told me to. Rachel's going to be my Christina."

"Which song do you honestly believe would be better?"

Kurt sighs. "The one that I've under rehearsed."

Dave's end of the phone is so quiet besides Dave's voice coming out of it. It makes Kurt wonder if Dave is hiding out somewhere. In his car away from all of the other kids at school. Or maybe on some lonely and deserted part of campus. Strange.

Either way, Dave starts talking again with that same conviction in his voice. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to sing _Not the Boy Next Door._ And you're going to nail it to the wall. That's a thing, right?"

Kurt nods even though Dave can't see him.

Dave continues. "You're going to pretend that I'm there telling you that you can't do it. And because you're a competitive bitch and you have to be right all the time, you know what's going to happen?"

"No," he says, shaking too much to focus on the veiled insults that Dave threw at him.

"You're going to prove me wrong. Because I _know_ that you can do this."

"Thanks, David."

"Don't you only have like ten minutes? Stop talking to me and get up there."

Kurt nods again and hangs up, too numb to register that he didn't really say bye to Dave. Dave will understand.

Kurt changes and slides on his clothes the same way he did that morning—feeling like he's dressing someone else's body.

When Rachel tells him about Carmen Tibadeaux he's not really listening to her. He focuses on the beating of his heart and tries to feel empowered by it.

When his name gets called he bathes himself in the hot, white stage lights. He sings like he's proving a point to everyone who ever told him "no."

* * *

Chandler texts him a few hours later. _How was the big audition? It was today, right? Also, my mystery man might be gay after all. Some rumors going around about him. Not sure I want to get involved regardless._

Kurt has no words to relay his audition experience to Chandler. Sure, it was great for him, but Rachel forgot the words to her own song and they were supposed to go to NYADA together.

Is the world really expecting him to take on New York by himself? He's already leaving his whole world behind, can't he at least bring one person with him?

He doesn't care about rumors or mystery men. So much is going to change in the next month, he doesn't know why anyone would bother being concerned with the present. It's not like it's going to last.

* * *

Blaine meets him at his car after school. For once there's no glee rehearsal.

"You took off so fast after your audition," Blaine starts, "I didn't get to tell you how wonderful you were."

"Sorry. I was trying to process everything. Rachel's audition—"

"I know. She wanted it just as much as you did."

Kurt had wanted it for her, also.

Blaine cups Kurt's face in his hands and kisses him.

It's not a particularly gentle kiss, and there are other people around, filing out of the parking lot.

"You were so amazing," Blaine breaths against Kurt's lips before kissing him again.

Kurt kisses him back for a fraction of second and that's as much as he can focus on the kiss.

So much is happening, he wants to run away, he doesn't have enough time for anything, too much is changing right before his eyes.

Blaine is still murmuring to him through scattered, firm kisses. "—Like, really good. You were so-phenomenal."

Normally Kurt craves praise. His ego is big enough that he doesn't really _need_ it (until recently) but he's addicted to it.

This praise coming off of Blaine is weird, though.

Blaine is definitely impressed, that's for sure. But he's also something else.

Kurt pushes his boyfriend's hands off of his face. "You didn't think that I could do it."

"What? Kurt, of course I knew you could."

"Then you don't have to act so _surprised_ about it."

Blaine watches him with wide, wounded eyes. "Can't I be impressed?"

Kurt tugs the strap of his messenger bag back up on his shoulder. He crosses his arm and cocks his head while he says, "Yes, you can be impressed. But you're supposed to believe in me and someone who believes in me shouldn't sound this shocked."

Kurt pushes past Blaine and fumbles for his keys in his bag. He's fuming and he's not completely sure why.

Somehow he unlocks the door.

Blaine follows him to the driver's side. He's not quite yelling but he's speaking pretty aggressively all the same while he says, "I don't understand what I'm doing wrong here."

He climbs in his car and shuts his door on, "I need to be alone for a little while."

Blaine is motionless in the parking lot while Kurt backs out.

* * *

Kurt alternates between pouting about Rachel's audition and being ecstatic about his own while he waits for Sam to come home.

Finn is comforting Rachel. Kurt has no idea when he'll be back and is afraid to ask, so Kurt and Sam compromise on a movie. Hopefully it will help Kurt relax.

They agree on Thor and that's not a surprise. Sam is a comic book nerd and Chris Hemsworth is extremely attractive.

Carole comes home from work partway into the movie and tells Kurt how proud she is of him. "Your dad will tell you the same thing tonight when he gets home."

She smiles at Kurt but it's strained and sad. Finn must've told her about what happened with Rachel because she doesn't ask for any details.

"What time does Dad's flight get in?" Kurt asks, turning around on the couch so he can face her.

"10:15. It's going to be a late night."

"We'll go with you," Sam offers, "so you don't have to drive by yourself."

"Thanks boys." Carole smiles again, that same worn smile. She leaves them to their movie.

Sam speaks up a few minutes later. "You know, I can see the appeal of some guys."

Kurt laughs. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, like, I can see how people would like Chris Hemsworth."

"Mm. Tall, muscular, blond-haired, blue-eyed guys?"

"Absolutely." Sam grins.

Kurt throws a pillow at him when he starts trying to subtly flex his arms from his seat in the armchair.

When they both stop laughing, Kurt says seriously, "You're a good guy, Sam. I'm glad you got to stay with us. I'll miss this."

"Careful what you say, dude," Sam says, striving to keep the tone light, "I'm about to steal this pillow."

Kurt fakes a pout.

"That's what you get for throwing it at me."

Kurt's phone buzzes at the end of the movie. He's expecting some kind of angry message from Blaine and he's not disappointed. It reads, _I'm going to give you some time, but just so you know, I'm expecting an apology._

There's another message coming in and Kurt huffs, but the second one is from Dave. _Hey wanna learn how to ice skate tonight_

Kurt raises his eyebrows at that.

Sam regards him curiously from across the living room. Kurt ignores him. _When?_

_The sportsplex closes at ten and we could go after it closes_

That's late for a school night, not to mention a night when he's supposed to be getting his dad from the airport.

_I don't know if I can make that. Is everything OK?_

It takes longer for him to get a response. Sam waits a couple minutes and when Kurt doesn't volunteer any information he puts the DVD back in its case and leaves the room.

When the text finally comes, all it says is, _Not really._

Kurt hesitates. Dave obviously wants him to go or else he wouldn't be asking. And so far their friendship has mostly been comprised of Kurt demanding certain things from Dave, like telling him to leave his house and listen to Kurt sing.

It's a big deal that Dave is asking for something from Kurt, but Kurt's supposed to go to the airport to get his dad. He's only got so many more days with his dad before he's moving out.

Dave texts him again before he can respond. _You don't have to if you don't want to. I'm going to be there no matter what._

* * *

Carole is reading outside in the fading spring light when Kurt approaches her.

She turns to the next page in her novel and tells Kurt, "There's leftovers in the fridge if you're hungry." She looks up at him. "Sweetie, what's wrong?"

"Do you think dad would understand if I don't go to the airport? I want to, but there's something I have to go do and I think it's pretty important."

Carole gestures to the lawn chair next to her. "Do you want to sit and tell me about it?"

Kurt shakes his head. "I'll tell you about it later, I promise. I can't talk about it right now. But everything's going to be OK."

"Kurt, you're scaring me."

"One of my friends, I think he's pretty upset and I need to be there for him right now."

Carole frowns. She knows all of Kurt and Finn's friends, or at least the ones that they see outside of school. It's unusual for Kurt to be talking about a friend of his without mentioning who it is.

"Can I get a name, at least?"

He supposes that he owes her that. "David Karofsky," he manages to get out.

Carole knows about what happened. Most people in town do. She closes her book and stands up.

She's shorter than Kurt but it doesn't matter. She can be a real authoritarian when she wants to be. "What happens to that boy is not your responsibility." She's trying to be realistic and soothing at the same time, but it makes Kurt want to weep because she's one more person who's turning her back on Dave's pain.

Kurt squeezes his eyes shut and clamps a hand over his mouth. Once he's managed to take a relatively normal breath, he pulls his hand back to say, "His mom told him that he was diseased."

Carole falters. She's a naturally accepting and loving person, so a mother not supporting her child is a concept that gets lost on her.

"I worry about you taking on too much." She wipes a tear off Kurt's cheek.

"I promise I'll talk to you about it as soon as I can. But I can't think about it right now."

"OK."

It's not completely OK. She has a grudge against Dave just like any parent in her position would. But there's a spark of sympathy brewing for the boy also, and hopefully that will win out.

It certainly doesn't mean that they can't get to a place where things _are_ OK.

Everything has to be OK eventually, doesn't it?


	8. On the Ice

AN: To all of my faithful reviewers: 333. Also. You may want tissues, just sayin'.

Chapter 8— On the Ice

"I'm not going to the airport."

Sam frowns at Kurt from over his copy of _Hamlet_. He's actually trying to read the second act, but will probably resort to cliff notes within the next hour.

"Do you suddenly have plans tonight?"

Kurt nods, then shakes his head. "I have to be there for someone."

Sam searches Kurt's face and stares him straight in the eyes for a few seconds. "Is this about Karofsky?"

"I think something happened. I'm so scared for him, Sam."

"Alright, well. I'm still going to the airport."

"I didn't ask you to—"

"You don't have to. Besides, I owe it to Carole and Burt. For letting me stay here rent-free."

Kurt has already told Sam once that day how wonderful Sam is, and there might be a limit on how often a gay guy can tell his straight friend how great he is.

Sam already knows and it's so obvious that he takes pride in it.

Sam may be broke and do more impressions in an hour than any sane man should ever do, but he's full of heart.

Kurt presents Sam with the most gracious smile that he can come up with, and leaves Sam's room to call Dave.

* * *

Kurt closes his bedroom door while he dials Dave's number. He tries sitting on his bed but it doesn't take long before he's up and pacing as he listens to Dave's voicemail kick in.

He hangs up in frustration and dials a second time. He's about ready to hang up a second time, sure that he's just going to get voice mail again, when Dave picks up.

"Jesus, Kurt. What?" Dave sounds angry but there's a raspy undertone to his words.

Kurt is so stupid for calling about this. "For ice skating, I. Um."

"Yes?" Dave practically growls.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to wear for something like this."

"You're asking me about fucking _clothes?_ Of course you are, you fucking princess."

Kurt's eyes narrow and his grip on his phone tightens. "I would be furious at you right now if I wasn't fairly certain that you're deflecting on me."

That shuts Dave up fast. Kurt lets the quiet moment settle between them for a few seconds, then adds, "I just need to know if it's going to be cold. I told you, I've never done this before."

Dave replies quietly, and without any anger masking the rawness in his voice. "It's a little bit cold. You might want gloves. But it's not, like, winter."

"Good," Kurt says, short. He's trying not to be furious so he can make good on his word that he wasn't mad because he understood that Dave's anger wasn't about him, but he's running low on patience. "10:00?"

"You don't have to."

"Shut up. I want to."

* * *

Kurt expects some sense of déjà vu as he backs out of his driveway for the second time in less than a week, solely so that he can meet David Karofsky in the Sportsplex parking lot.

It doesn't come to him.

He thinks that there aren't that many things that have changed between them. Not really.

Dave is still angry and vulnerable, and at times Kurt capitalizes on that. He knows how to get Dave to come over, even when Dave hesitates.

Dave knows how to get Kurt to sing like Kurt didn't think he could anymore. "_You're going to pretend that I'm there telling you that you can't do it."_

The biggest sense of irony that Kurt has found throughout this whole "friendship" with Dave is that when Dave defies Kurt, it instills Kurt with more self-confidence.

Dave figured that out. Probably even knew that a long time ago.

Back when—_"Listen, Hamhock. You're not my type."_

That's not something that has changed in their relationship, then.

It's certainly not like Kurt has learned a whole lot about Dave in the last five days. He's got a better picture of Dave's home life, and that's one of the few new things that Kurt knows.

The most relationship-changing piece of knowledge that Kurt has gained is from the way Dave hugs him. Crushing and shaking and desperate.

There's the real reason why Kurt fights so hard against being angry at Dave. He doesn't have the details behind why today was such a bad day for Dave, but things in general haven't been _good_ so something unbearable awful must have happened for Dave to identity that today was _"not really"_ OK.

If Kurt has a slow burning fire of annoyance inside of him, it's not like he ever pretended to be a perfect person.

* * *

Kurt arrives at the Sportsplex at 9:45. He came early on purpose, expecting Dave to have checked out of his house early, like he alluded to doing on so many nights.

Of course, Dave is waiting in his truck. He's not bent over himself like he was on that first night. Another quick reminder that although this should feel like something Kurt has encountered before, something has undeniably changed the dynamic between the two of them.

Dave slouches in his seat and for the most part, looks apathetic and tired.

Kurt doesn't hesitate before approaching Dave's truck.

Dave rolls his eyes, exasperated but like he wasn't expecting anything different, as Kurt struts his way over to the passenger side.

This time, the door is unlocked.

Dave throws the old hockey skates that were sitting on the passenger seat (gross) onto the tiny back seat so that Kurt can sit down without missing a beat.

The first thing Dave says is, "I was rude to you."

Kurt shrugs like it's nothing new. It isn't, really. "I'm giving you a free pass. I have a feeling that you've got a good reason for being short with me."

"I've never had a good reason for taking shit out on you. So you can keep your free pass. I don't want it."

"David," Kurt begins to protest before Dave cuts him off.

"You're my only friend." Dave reflexively grabs for his steering wheel, running his fingers across the leather like he did on that first night. "You're my only friend," he repeats, quieter and more unsteadily. "I need you to stop brushing off all the times that I treat you badly."

"That's really what you want?"

Dave looks up from his steering wheel and fixes Kurt with a gaze that clearly says that Dave doesn't want any of this.

"OK," Kurt begins, because he has to say something to make Dave stop looking at him like that, "I acknowledge that you were rude to me without reason. You going to tell me what happened that made today so terrible?"

Dave bows his head and his hands still. A long moment passes without a word and it's practically 10:00 when Dave speaks up. "Did you know that California became the first state to ban reparative therapy?" He sounds detached. Like it's a throwaway question. It certainly doesn't seem like the answer to why Dave is seemingly worse today than he was yesterday.

"Yeah, I heard that," Kurt answers honestly.

Dave acts like he didn't hear him. He continues. "My mom's pushing for me to go see a shrink. But I'm 18; she can't force me to go if I don't want to."

Kurt frowns. There's got to be a link here. Between the reparative therapy ban and Dave's mom wanting him to see a psychiatrist.

It doesn't take very long at all for Kurt to piece these two things together. He knows about Dave's "disease" and the cure that his mother is desperate for him to have.

Dave checks in with Kurt and sees that Kurt understands where this is going.

"I told my mom about the ban. She kept yelling at me about how if I—if I loved her then I would give this guy a chance." Dave gathers himself. His hands tighten again on the steering wheel and he speaks with more conviction. "So I told her, 'if you loved _me_ then you would understand that'—" Dave cuts himself off and swallows hard.

Kurt fills in the blank on his own. If Dave's mother loved him, truly and unconditionally, then she would support California's ban on this damaging form of "therapy" and stop trying to force her son to go.

Kurt opens his mouth to tell Dave how sorry he is. How he doesn't understand what it's like to have a parent (possibly two parents) not want what's best for him. How this whole thing is just the luck of the draw, and Dave's been dealt a shit hand.

Dave speaks again, too fast for Kurt to interject. "I've done so many fucked up things, and this one thing, the one thing that I can't change- and I've tried, I've tried so fucking hard- that's what it takes for her to register that there's a problem worth solving.

"I got fucking _expelled_ and their solution was to ground me for two weeks and figure out the fastest way possible to get my ass back in school."

"David, you probably should go talk to someone. A real psychiatrist." Kurt's expecting retribution from that and he's prepared to defend his answer. If Dave doesn't want him sugarcoating things, then Kurt's going to stop doing it.

Instead, Dave nods, looking old and worn. Resigned, like he had already agreed with Kurt long before Kurt even spoke.

Kurt can deal with Dave's anger. He knows how to fight back against the temper that used to chase him daily at school.

Kurt's not sure what to do when Dave gets like this. Those few, private moments when Dave strips away the anger and shows Kurt what Dave faces when he's alone. It reminds Kurt that Dave is broken. That there are times when he doesn't want to fight anymore, or maybe can't remember how to fight at all.

Kurt is not a violent person, but it almost makes Kurt want to slap him. Probably not across the face, but on the arm. Something. Just something small to take away that extra shine of sadness in Dave's eyes and replace it with some sort of spark.

In lieu of hitting Dave, Kurt leans across the center console and hugs him. It's sideways and awkward and Dave still has his hands on the steering wheel, so Kurt has to wrap his right arm around Dave's outstretched arms.

Dave hardly reacts to it. Maybe doesn't realize that it's happening. Kurt whispers in his ear, "You want to go skate?"

It's the only solution that Kurt can come up with. It's not helping anything with Dave's home life, and it doesn't magically not make Kurt Dave's only friend.

Dave nods anyway.

* * *

The doors are locked and in the twenty minutes that Kurt spent in Dave's truck, the parking lot has completely cleared out except for their cars and one other.

Dave isn't swayed. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials one-handed, keeping his skates slung over his should with this other arm.

"Hey, dude. Could you let us in?" He must be talking to that Rob guy, the owner. "Come on, man. You never cared about me being inside before the doors locked." Dave waits for a response. "OK, cool. Thanks."

Dave hands up and slides the phone back into his pocket.

"He was just giving me shit. He's coming to open the door."

"You're sure it's OK that we're here?"

"Positive." Dave gives him the smallest form of a reassuring smile. It looks like the most that he can muster.

But it's something.

Kurt smiles back as a man who must be Rob unlocks the door and lets them in, locking the door behind them.

Kurt has never met a Rob, but this guy doesn't look like one. "Robs" should be handsome studdly guys who turn into entrepreneurs. This guy is grizzled and looks to be in his 50's. His hands are weathered, there's a scratchiness to his voice that suggests long-term smoking (he smells a little like it, too) and he's got several days worth of stubble on his face.

Rob greets Dave without a hello. "I'd ask if your skates need a sharpening, but it's been so long since I've seen you that you're probably good to go for a while longer. Unless you've been skating on another man's ice?"

"What, and have to pay?" Dave says with mock indignation.

"I better be able to see my reflection in that ice when you're finished, Karofsky." Rob takes a key off his key ring and tosses it to Dave. Dave catches it without missing a beat.

Probably for that ice cleaner thing, whatever Dave had called it. Zoobini? Something with a "Z," anyway.

"Who's your friend?" Rob asks, staring at Kurt.

"Oh yeah," Dave says, clearly having forgot about introductions.

"Kurt Hummel," Kurt says, reaching out to shake the man's hand.

"Robert Wilson," Rob responds, mimicking Kurt's poise slightly as he does so. It rubs Kurt the wrong way, but he tries to save his indignation for bigger issues. Otherwise, he'd never get anything accomplished.

"Hey, Dave, your friend need skates?" Kurt likes the man a little bit less. Would it kill the guy to talk to Kurt directly?

"What? Um, yeah." Dave grins apologetically. "If that's OK."

Rob shoots Dave a look of annoyance, but at the last second there's a ghost of a smile. Dave doesn't seem particularly worried, so it must be Rob's form of teasing.

"Hey kid," Rob says, gesturing Kurt over to the skate rental booth. "What size shoes do you wear?"

Kurt eyes the skates lined up behind the counter. Some are dirty, others have seams that look ready to split, but they're all old.

"Spray 'em with disinfectant after each use. Scout's honor," Rob smirks at him. His assurance as to the cleanliness of the skates comes as a sort of mockery to Kurt's fastidious nature.

"Size 12," Kurt says anyway, because Dave seems fond of the guy and Kurt is determined to give him a chance.

"You want hockey or figure?"

"What?"

"Hockey skates," he says slowly, like Kurt is stupid, "or figure skates."

"What's the difference?" he asks, tempted to say "hockey skates" so that he can get this guy off his back.

"This your first time?"

"Yes," Dave answers for him. He's already got his skates on and it adds several inches to his height. It's like before Kurt got his last growth spurt, back when Dave towered above him.

Rob pulls out what Kurt presumes to be the whitest, newest figure skates that the guy has in his size.

"Hockey skates," Rob says, pointing at Dave's feet, "figure skates," he continues, pointing at the skates in front of Kurt.

Kurt's fairly flamboyant. He tries to pretend like it isn't true, but he knows it. Public high school in a small town would never teach him otherwise. Still, maybe he wants hockey skates. There's nothing that says that he can't be into fashion _and_ sports (like Blaine).

"Figure skates are easier to skate on," Dave explains before Kurt can work up to whatever righteous speech he's preparing. "It has to do with the width of the blade."

Kurt snatches the skates away, impatient for this whole thing to be over. He's going to fall on his face no matter what, what difference does it make how thick the blades are that he straps to his feet?

"Careful, Dave. Looks like your boyfriend's got his boxers in a twist."

There it is. _Boyfriend_.

Dave freezes. The smirk that he had on his face from Kurt's outrage slowly slides off into a subdued expression of fear.

Dave's trying not to let this guy know that he's gotten to him. He doesn't deny that Kurt is his boyfriend. He doesn't deny any sort of attachment to the word "boyfriend."

He waits quietly for the bludgeon to fall.

There's an apology written in the way Rob's eyebrows sink down. "News travels."

Dave turns his gaze to the floor and blinks, extra long. His shoulders slump. He knows what's coming.

Dave reaches into his pocket and pulls out the key that Rob had given him earlier. He presents it to Rob, but Rob doesn't take it.

Rob's muddy eyes stay locked on Dave the entire time. He doesn't start speaking again until Dave finally looks up.

"There's only one thing that I give any kind of shit about. You wanna fuck someone, that's your business. Shouldn't matter for shit, except to the people you choose to fuck."

Dave nods a couple times, fast. He's getting that look of hope in his eyes, the one that makes his eyes so green. It gives his face some life.

"Also, I'm far too old to be going to your funeral _first_. Your gay ass better meet with my corpse long before I have any sort of opportunity to see yours. Got me?" Dave looks away from Rob's face a second time and swallows. He nods again, slower. His head is turned in Kurt's direction and Kurt tries to give him any kind of expression of encouragement that he can dredge up, but Dave never makes eye contact.

Rob continues. "What I don't think you realize is that I've been covering for your ass. Your parents freak out because they don't know where you are, they call me. And I tell them that you're here. And I know for a fact that you weren't always camped out in my parking lot when I told them you were. Which makes me a dumb ass for telling them that you were, because if you had decided to go do something stupid when I told them that I was watching you, that's on me."

Dave looks to Kurt for the first time since Rob started talking to him. He can't tell if Dave's look of shock is because his parents took the time to wonder where he was, or because Rob lied for him. Either way, it comes as a complete surprise.

Rob isn't finished. "Here's something for _you_. I find out that you've been leaving your house again without telling your parents what's up? They're going to find out about that fake ID you've got buried in your wallet. Just because I got it for you doesn't mean I won't out myself. You got me?"

"Yes," Dave croaks.

"Good. It's already almost 10:30. You're lucky you caught me on a day when I have payroll to finish. Put that key away, you're not getting out of resurfacing the ice. I want to be out of here within the next hour, so you better factor in time for the zamboni."

Dave turns the key over in his hand before he puts it away again. Clearly, he had forgotten that he was still holding it.

"Thanks, Rob."

"Don't 'thanks, Rob' me. I know you didn't come over here to kowtow to my old ass. Unless you're into that kind of thing. Get on the ice."

Rob disappears into the small office adjacent to the skate rental counter.

Dave has abandoned his shoes and his jacket on a bench near an entrance to the rink, visible from Rob's tiny workspace

"Think you can figure out how to put those on by yourself?"

"I wear knee-length boots on a regular basis, I think I can figure out a pair of ice skates." Kurt sits primly on the bench besides where Dave had flung his jacket, and unties his converse.

Dave gapes at him.

"What?"

"Nothing. I just realized how_ casual _you look." Dave blushes like he has been caught staring at something inappropriate.

It's not that big of a deal. Kurt is wearing a zip-up sweatshirt and an older, slightly worn pair of jeans. Mostly, he didn't want to risk ruining clothes that he cared about.

Dave clears his throat and avoids looking at Kurt's clothes any further, like he's shielding himself from something private.

"I'm gonna go out there. Signal me when you're ready, OK?"

Dave stomps off toward the ice. He poises himself at the entrance to the rink, scanning the smooth, empty ice, and then he's off.

Dave is not Kurt's usual definition of a graceful person. Normally Kurt associates "grace" with dancing, not with athletics, but it's impossible not to appreciate how talented Dave is. He glides carelessly across the ice without a second thought. It looks utterly effortless.

Dave speeds off in one direction, and without even missing a beat, he flips around and continues skating in that same direction, facing backwards.

It looks so _easy_.

Kurt is too far away to take in anything other than Dave's body language, but something about Dave looks lighter. Something inside him is free.

* * *

Kurt approaches the rink with shaky movements. He can barely walk on these things, he has no clue how he's expected to stand on ice with them.

He waits patiently in the little doorway that separates the ice from the rubber Sportsplex floo, dreading this.

The longer it takes for Dave to spot him, the better.

Dave doesn't allow for much time for Kurt to relax. He spies Kurt waiting for him, and shoots off across the center of the ice, building speed until he's going so fast that Kurt resorts to moving away so Dave doesn't plow him down.

Dave leans into a hard stop. It sends a cloud of shaved ice up into the air and Dave rights himself, smiling proudly.

"Show off," Kurt murmurs, just glad that Dave didn't hit him.

Kurt takes the wadded up cotton gloves out of his sweatshirt pocket and tugs them on.

Dave backs up about a foot to allow room for Kurt to step out on the ice.

Kurt hesitates. "This looks like a great way for me to break an ankle." He grips the edge of the rink with one hand while he experimentally stretches out a leg and places it on the ice.

"Come on," Dave groans. "I won't let you fall. I promise."

"I'm holding you to that." Kurt still doesn't move from his spot. He slides one foot up and down on the ice, balancing precariously on the other leg.

"I've seen five year olds more willing to step on the ice."

"This is that thing you do where you insult me to try to get me to do something amazing."

"Right in one," Dave grins. "Seriously, though." Dave reaches out for Kurt's hand, the one not gripping the wall.

Kurt lets him take it. Even clings to Dave's large, strong hand as Dave pulls him from the safety of his spot.

The air is frosty and it gives the illusion of winter without the blistering cold.

Kurt inhales deeply. He can feel the warmth of Dave's bare hand seeping through his gloved one. Dave's got a firm grip on him. His hand has a perfect size ratio to Kurt hand. His long, muscled fingers meet against the back of Kurt's hand, but there's no overlap. Dave's hands aren't so much bigger that Kurt feels like a child.

Kurt studies his feet. The way they slip across the ice, so much more unsteadily than Dave's, whose are moving backwards with sure, even strokes.

It quiet, save for the sound of their breaths and the scraping of metal on ice.

Then Britney Spears begins to sing.

Kurt jumps, searching for the source of the music. "Careful," Dave says, grabbing him with his other hand.

Kurt sees the four speakers evenly spaced around the rink.

Britney is wailing about tricking a guy into thinking that she was in love with him and in front of Kurt, Dave growls.

"Goddammit, Rob. I swear, he keeps these tracks just to piss me off."

"Clearly, it's not working.

Dave smirks at him. "Hey Fancy, look where we are." Kurt turns his head cautiously, maintaining his grip on Dave's hand.

They're in the middle of the rink.

"David! I'm never going to be able to get back to the edge!"

"Sure you are. And you're going to do it without my help."

"But why are we so far from the wall?"

"Because if you're by the wall then you're going to grab it, and then you'll never learn how to skate on your own."

"I won't grab it. I'll just have it there. For safety."

Dave laughs. "Give me something to work with, here. Didn't you learn how to ride a bike?" Kurt nods. "This is just like that. All I'm doing is giving you a little push."

"Please don't push me. I'll definitely fall if you push me."

Dave actually has to use his free hand to pull his other one out of Kurt's grasp.

"We're going to start with standing. Good, you can stand. You pass."

"Step two is skating, isn't it."

"Unfortunately," Dave fakes a cringe.

They spend all of _Bye Bye Bye_ and the better part of _Genie in a Bottle_ going over the basics of how to put one foot in front of the other.

It's so strange to see Dave like this. On the ice, he's like a completely different person. They're in this frozen world with just the two of them and some truly horrible music.

Dave is good at this and he knows it. He's good enough to teach a class on it, even if it was only one time and for children.

Dave smiles at Kurt with more ease than Kurt has ever seen. His eyes crinkle in the corners and you can actually hear the joy in his voice when he says to Kurt, "That's it. You've got it."

The new thing radiating off of Dave is _confidence_. Without anyone to pass judgments, Dave knows how to be himself. All it takes for him to find that is a room full of ice and some 90's hits.

* * *

"OK, I'm going to teach you how to do a forward swizzle. Yes, that's what it's really called, yes it's a figure skating thing, and yes I know a very minimal amount of figure skating. No spins or any of that shit, though." Dave positions his feet in a "v" shape with his heels together. He pushes his feet apart and brings them back together, creating a circle. "Put your heels together."

Kurt had been working on keeping his feet parallel to each other and this seems like the opposite of what he wants. He grabs onto Dave's upper arms (more like, Kurt grabs onto Dave's _bicep_,) to help himself balance while he positions his feet.

"Kurt, you can't keep grabbing me."

Kurt wants to say, "Why not?" when he slips and slides forward into Dave.

Dave loses his balance, caught off guard by Kurt's fall, and they both tumble to the ground together.

Kurt lands partially on top of Dave, with one thigh in between Dave's legs and the other hugging Dave's hip. He manages to fall with an arm on either side of Dave, so essentially he is straddling him.

Dave falls on his hip in a manner that almost looks practiced and Kurt wonders if there's a specific way that skaters learn to fall so that they can minimize impact.

Their faces are inches apart. If Kurt's life were some cheesy romantic comedy, this would be the moment where they kiss. Kurt would barely have to lean down to brush his lips against Dave's

Dave smells the same as he did the last time that Kurt really hugged him. Like an athletic brand of deodorant and freshly washed clothes. Then there's that underlying scent, the one that must be purely Dave. It's a little bit musky and it makes Kurt feel shaky and his stomach clenches.

Dave's eyes lower to Kurt's lips. They linger there, brown and small and watery.

Kurt really doesn't want to give Dave the wrong impression. Technically he's still with Blaine, and even if he wasn't, it doesn't change anything that happened between Kurt and Dave. It doesn't make Dave more emotionally stable. It doesn't stop Kurt from leaving for New York. It doesn't take away of their long, painful history.

It certainly doesn't take away an unwelcome _I think I love you._ Which is why Dave finally looks away from Kurt, never once making eye contact.

Dave knows exactly where he stands with Kurt, and it's firmly in the "friends" zone.

Kurt should be glad that Dave has finally gotten the hint. He should be happier that he doesn't have to reject Dave again and watch as Dave struggles to keep it together, to act like Kurt turning him down doesn't break his heart.

It makes Kurt feel even worse to see that there's no shred of optimism on Dave's face. Dave lies underneath him, making no attempt to get away, but he never allows himself to close the distance between them. He's not waiting for Kurt to make a move on him because it's not going to happen.

As if on cue, the ambiguous boy band song ends and a new one starts up. One that Kurt recognizes. He doesn't even need the chorus to know the sounds of _I'll Never Break Your Heart. _

Kurt's life is not a comedy. Bad things happen to him all the time, and to the people he loves. Life is a cold hearted bitch and occasionally something comical might happen to Kurt, but it doesn't turn his life into this completely humorous spectacle.

"You're on top of me," Dave reminds him.

"Sorry," Kurt mutters, sliding off of Dave and sitting on the ice.

Dave gets to his feet. He offers a hand to Kurt and is disappointed but unsurprised when Kurt doesn't take it.

Dave lowers his hand to his side, pausing to see if Kurt stands up on his own. He doesn't. He's waiting for the inevitable chorus.

_I'll never break your heart_

_I'll never make you cry_

_I'd rather die than live without you…_

"Fucking music," Dave says to some spot that is not Kurt. He swipes an arm across his face and takes off for the exit, presumably to tell Rob to turn the noise off.

Dave leaves Kurt sitting on the ice with a numb ass and an ache in his chest.


	9. Resurface

AN: Over 70 reviews and not even ten chapters in. Holy shit you guys. You have no idea how much this means to me. Here is chapitre neuf. Sorry about the long wait this time. Updates should be coming faster now.

* * *

Chapter 9- Resurface

The music shuts off.

Dave reappears at the edge of the rink.

Kurt holds his breath while their eyes meet and they both struggle to come up with something to say.

Neither one of them has to voice anything about their previous encounter in order for it to be blatantly obvious how uncomfortable they are.

Dave clears his throat and lowers his eyes. He grabs the walls in preparation for getting back on the ice while he asks, "You need help getting over here?"

Kurt rises to his feet on shaky legs. He's still not the greatest with balancing on his skates and he feels jittery from his fall on top of Dave. Nervous, anxious and depressed. To counter all of those, he's heavy—like he has a responsibility to not make things worse for Dave and he's not sure how to keep protecting him.

Still, Kurt tells Dave, "I think I've got it." Wobbly and weighed down, Kurt extends his arms for balance and propels himself toward the exit.

He's sure that he looks absolutely ridiculous. What's even worse is that Dave doesn't laugh. Not even the slightest smirk traces his face.

There's no humor in anything. Not in the way that Dave nods to the ground. Or the way that Dave keeps glancing behind himself as if to make sure that he's still got an escape route.

Dave waits until he seems convinced that Kurt isn't going to sprain his ankle or break a leg somehow, then stomps off towards his shoes. His shoulders are drawn in tight and his head is down. Nothing in the rink moves or makes a sound except for Dave's skates on the asphalt as he makes his getaway and the slow, quiet scrape of Kurt's skates while he trails behind.

* * *

Kurt miraculously remains upright the entire trip back to solid ground.

He meets Dave at the bench in time to see Dave yanking around the shoelaces on his tennis shoes in some semblance of tying them.

It takes Dave a couple tries and a lot of concentration to get the bows tied.

Kurt sinks down next to him on the bench.

The creases in Dave's forehead are deep. He releases his shoelaces and his hands rest on his legs, fingers coiling into his palms.

There's got to be a way for Kurt to make this better. It's becoming so much more difficult for Kurt to keep pretending that Dave doesn't have feelings for him. Dave kissed him back in that locker room, even tried to kiss him a second time—and now, a year and a half later, he stares at Kurt's lips like he wants nothing more than to capture them with his own. This time, he won't. He's faced rejection too many times.

It doesn't soften the ache for either one of them. It's expected, anticipated, and it traps them. They can't reach each other through the haze of complicated, painful emotions that drive them apart.

Kurt's got nothing. He whispers, "I'm sorry," because Dave is lost to him. Lost in his own head, lost in the clench of his hands and the furor of his eyebrows.

Dave turns his head to face him, slow and calculated. Dave's eyes are pink from tears that Kurt hasn't seen, but none of the sadness lingers in his eyes even if it's evident in the way he hunches over himself.

There's anger.

"Yeah? For what?" It's a challenge. Kurt is aware of what he's apologizing for. It's for not being able to give Dave what he wants. It's for making Dave hurt when he already has more than his fair share of heartache. Mostly, it's an apology based on pity. Kurt _feels sorry_ for Dave.

Dave knows what Kurt's apology is built out of.

The fury in Dave's tear-stained eyes spreads down his spine, into the muscles in his arms and legs.

He stands, staring Kurt down. He repeats, "What are you sorry for, Hummel?"

Kurt feels his eyes widen and his mouth opens, wordless. Moisture pools and spills over his lower eyelids.

There's a response that Kurt won't let himself voice. Not now, not ever. _I'm sorry you love me. I'm sorry I don't love you._

He closes his mouth.

Dave deflates slightly, only noticeable to Kurt because Kurt's seen the subtlety of Dave's expressions.

"Don't apologize when it isn't your fault." Dave has traces of residual anger in his voice. A sort of urgency, and the implication in his words is clear. _It's my fault. I did this to myself._

"David—" Kurt says when he can see the sadness start to break free in Dave's eyes.

"I've got to resurface the ice," Dave cuts in fast, before Kurt can offer whatever small comfort was on the tip of his tongue.

Dave turns his back to Kurt and mumbles in a voice made gravelly by the tears clogging his throat, "Leave your skates on the counter."

Dave stalks off to the side of the rink opposite from where they entered. It must be where they store that ice-cleaner-thing.

Kurt plops back down on the bench, scooting away Dave's discarded jacket and skates to make space for himself.

He throws his gloves on top of Dave's jacket and begins unwrapping the laces on his skates. They're a lot easier to take off than they are to put on, and once his feet are free it's like discovering that he has ankles all over again.

He slides on his converse and collects his skates so that he can leave them at the rental counter, and maybe tell Rob "thanks" for letting him skate for free, after hours.

Walking again is… interesting. Being able to rotate his ankles and plant his whole foot on the floor makes him feel off-balanced somehow.

He likes to think that he recovers from it quickly enough, but truthfully there's no one around to counter his theory.

He deposits the skates where Dave had indicated and knocks on the door to the dingy office adjoining the rental counter.

Rob is seated at some out-dated computer, punching the keyboard and blocking the screen. "Yeah?" he calls, so Kurt figures he's invited into the room.

Kurt opens the door and peeks his head in. Rob jerks his head around to see who it is and Kurt catches a glimpse of something bright and colorful on his computer monitor.

It's some kind of online, Tetris knock-off.

"I wanted to say thank you for letting us skate so late on a weeknight and for letting me borrow your ice skates."

"That'll be $10," Rob says, going back to his computer and closing out of his game.

"Oh," Kurt says, surprised. He reaches into his back pocket for his wallet. He thinks he's got some cash in there.

"Kidding, Hairspray. It's free." Rob shuts down his computer and gathers a few miscellaneous papers off of his desk.

"Were you waiting on us? If you had finished all of your paperwork, you could've told us. I'd hate to keep you waiting."

"Kid, if I minded sitting here while you boys skated, then I wouldn't've done it."

"But you weren't even—" Kurt starts, pointing at the computer screen and ready to comment about the Tetris game.

Then it hits him. Rob was lying when he said that he had work to do. He never had any work to finish in the first place.

He stayed late so that Dave could skate.

"Got a problem?" Rob asks.

Kurt shakes his head, swallowing hard. "No. Not at all."

"Good."

Rob's pushing Kurt out of the office so he can lock up behind him, when the phone on his desk rings.

He reaches over and answers it with an irritated "Yeah?"

Kurt waits patiently outside the office for Dave to get back and he's trying not to eavesdrop (only half trying, really) but he's so close to Rob's end of the conversation that overhearing him is only natural.

"Yeah, he's here," Rob continues, agitated and weary.

It's got to be one of Dave's parents, calling to check and see where he's at. That's why Rob sounds so worn-out by this whole thing. He anticipated the phone call but is still completely exasperated that the phone call had to take place at all.

There's silence on Rob's end while he listens to whatever Dave's parent is telling him.

Rob glares out of the doorway and Kurt prepares to move away from the office, an apology ready on his lips.

Then he turns around and sees Dave approaching him.

It's immediately clear that Dave has words for him. Dave's patience has run out and Kurt builds himself up for whatever comment Dave is about to unjustly throw his way.

Rob intercepts it with an over bright, "Hey Paul, why don't you talk to him yourself?"

Dave spins around and stares at Rob like he's been caught in a trap.

Rob grins at Dave through the stubble on his face and holds out the phone like Dave is winning a million-dollar prize.

Dave's dad starts speaking, rapid and angry, before Dave can even put the phone to his ear.

Dave's fury drains away until there's nothing left but exhaustion. "I know, I should've told you where I was going."

This triggers a bout of yelling that is practically unintelligible to Kurt. He catches the words "worried sick" and "your mother" and "what were you thinking?"

Dave won't respond to whatever his dad says in between those few words that Kurt can make out. Instead, he promises, "I'll come home right now."

Dave holds the phone out for Rob to take and hang up for him. His dad's not done with whatever he was saying, yelling desperately into his phone for whoever will listen.

Rob takes the phone but hesitates. He picks up on the way Dave's dad is wailing into his phone and for a split second Rob's free hand jerks out like he's going to grab Dave's hand and stuff the phone back in it.

Dave's eyebrows are drawn and his eyes are smaller in sadness. He searches the speckled carpet for some answer that won't come.

His dad is either yelling himself hoarse or giving in to tears. Kurt tries not to think about which one of those is the better option, for Dave or for his dad.

"Please, hang up the phone," Dave says to the carpet. He's already gone to them both, locked in the strain in his father's voice.

Rob complies, still looking like he's considering a way to get Dave to finish the conversation.

"Listen Dave, about that key," Rob starts, pausing to see if Dave has even heard him.

Dave is still studying the carpet like it's one of those magic eye pictures and an image will jump out at him any second. Some small part of him must be listening though, because he reaches into his pocket for what Kurt assumes is the key to the ice-cleaner thing.

"No," Rob says when Dave holds it out for Rob to reach over and take. "I was going to tell you to keep it. I've got a spare. More convenient if I don't have to worry about giving you the key and getting it back from you each time you come here."

Dave finally breaks away from his puzzle.

"I think coming here is good for you. Arrange it with your parents first though, because those conversations with your parents aren't good for anyone. They aren't good for me, and they really aren't good for _you_."

Dave nods, but he's unfocused.

"Hey Karofsky, you listening to me?"

"Yeah," Dave throws over his shoulder as he goes to retrieve his skates.

Rob looks to Kurt to see if Kurt is able to tell whether or not Dave took any of that in.

Kurt shrugs.

Dave returns to them with his jacket and skates jumbled together in his arms. He thrusts Kurt's gloves out to him and Kurt fumbles them out of surprise.

He's picking one up off the floor when Dave tells Rob, "That horrible music you play isn't good for anyone either."

Maybe it's meant as a joke, but no one laughs. It's said too harshly and Kurt knows there's truth behind it. Truth, buried in the lines of a cheesy Backstreet Boys song, "_I'd rather die than live without you…"_

Dave charges for the exit and Kurt hears the almost inaudible sniff of Dave's self control sliding out of his slippery grasp.

He doesn't get very far. He shoves at the front door but Rob's got it locked.

Dave's right arm goes up and across his face.

Rob calls out to him and Dave turns a minimal amount, just enough that he can catch the keys that Rob tosses his way.

Dave is out the door in what Kurt considers to be lightning speed for someone who had to try three different keys before finding the proper one to unlock the door.

The door slams shut behind him, keys jingling merrily where they hang, suspended in the keyhole.

Kurt bolts after him, not swayed by Rob telling him, "Kid, maybe you should let him go."

_Let him go? _What, like everyone else has? It's unfair to say that to Rob, who (aside from slightly emasculating Kurt) has show his loyalty to Dave and his willingness to help Dave get better. It barely stops Kurt from saying it out loud, but it doesn't stop Kurt from thinking it.

He can't let Dave go. Not now that he's made himself a part of this. Kurt was made a part of this when he let nine calls go unanswered, but now it's completely voluntary. He's invested in this. If something unspeakable happens to Dave again, Kurt is 100% involved.

If Kurt gets called before another suicide attempt, it wouldn't be a call from a former tormenter who shows up out of the blue and announces that he's in love with Kurt. It would be a call from _David_. David, who tutors Chemistry and gets banned from teaching ice skating lessons because he can't keep his tongue in check. David, who hurts and leans his head into Kurt's shoulder while he cries.

It's not much to go off of, but these little details, these few things that Kurt has now that he didn't have before, feel like huge things.

Maybe the hugest moment of all is the two seconds where Dave had smiled at him on the ice. Unshadowed and proud.

Once Kurt has a hold of that, none of the other moments really matter. Those two seconds, that's what Kurt is fighting for.

That's the _boy_ who Kurt is fighting for.

* * *

Dave is rapidly losing the ability to expected him to be out of the parking lot by the time Kurt got to him, but Dave can't seem make his car key fit into the lock on his door.

Dave is practically giving up, making a tight fist and barely able to prevent himself from slamming it into his truck.

"You shouldn't be driving right now."

"If I don't get home immediately, my dad is going to lose his shit even more than he already has."

"Then I'll drive you."

"Kurt," Dave says, whipping around to face him, "why are you still here? Go away."

That must be it. What Dave had been trying to tell him before the phone call.

"No."

"Fucking piece of shit," Dave mutters, giving up with the keys entirely and hopelessly tugging on the door handle. "Fuck!" he yells when that, unsurprisingly, doesn't unlock his truck.

Kurt rescues Dave's jacket out of the puddle it had been soaking in and holds it at a distance where it won't drip on him.

"Kurt. Go away." Dave finally registers that he had been trying to shove what looks like a house key into the lock and picks out the correct key to open his door.

Kurt grabs Dave's arm and says, in a voice that he hopes is both soothing and authoritative, "You're not driving right now."

"Don't touch me."

Kurt leaves his hand where it is, to show that he's not afraid.

"I said, get your hands off me! Leave me alone!" Dave screams at him, pushes his hand off of his arm and backs up, away from his car. "Why won't you fucking leave me alone?" He yells, rapidly dissolving into sobs. "Everyone else has. Why won't you fucking go?"

Dave closes his eyes and lowers his head. Even in the dim light cast on them from surrounding street lights, Kurt can make out the tears that leak from Dave's eyes and onto the damp ground.

Kurt tries to reconcile this trembling boy in front of him with the one who smiled at him on the ice. They're the same person, it shouldn't be so hard for him to mentally form them into one.

But they don't mesh.

There's too much disconnect between that glimmer of self confidence and the boy who spent five minutes trying to unlock his car because he was too distraught to realize that he was using the wrong key.

"Doesn't seem like your dad has left you," Kurt reasons.

"My dad?" Dave laughs, hysterical. "My dad's a fucking pussy, you think he'd ever stick up for me? No, I get 'David, don't talk to your mother like that', and it's too little too late, because I'm this person now and my mom is a fucking bitch who throws tantrums when she doesn't get what she wants and the only time my dad ever sticks up for anyone is for her because she's the fucking love of his life."

Dave breathes shallow and quick before he continues and Kurt's in too much shock to stop him.

"And I'm the fucking worst of both of them."

What is Kurt even supposed to say to that? He brings the jacket to his chest, not caring that it's muddy and the water off of it seeps into his sweatshirt, chilling him.

It's nothing compared to the ice that slips down his spine.

Dave is still taking in those shallow breaths that get choked off every now and then when Dave gives in to the depression trapped inside.

Kurt squeezes his eyes shut and hugs the jacket even tighter to his chest.

There's something positive he can say to make this better, he's sure of it. He just has to find it first.

The shallow way that Dave's breathing bothers him, but when he reminds himself that there was a time where Dave wasn't breathing at all, (when his dad found him on the floor of his room, windpipe cut off from the belt around his neck,) it seems like a small concern.

He clings to that soggy jacket like it holds some kind of answer.

It doesn't. The only remotely positive thing that Kurt can fixate on is that Dave is alive in front of him, and that Dave was alive and wearing this jacket (hideous and denim, but _Dave's)_ and it makes Kurt marginally warmer, like the jacket had captured some of Dave's body heat and it's transferring to Kurt.

It's a ridiculous thought and there's no use rationalizing it because it doesn't work.

"Things are going to get better for you, David. They have to."

"That's the best you've got?" Dave asks, like he wasn't expecting much but it was more than this.

Kurt wipes his nose on Dave's coat. Everything is ruined, there's no need for elegance.

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know," he mumbles. It's a lie. He's got that pleading look back in his eyes like he knows exactly what he wants Kurt to say, but it's not the same as what Kurt actually _would_ say.

Dave calls himself a tantrum-throwing coward.

He's half right. There's no denying that Dave has anger problems. But Kurt doesn't think that Dave is a coward. Maybe before, when Kurt thought that Dave was needlessly afraid of coming out, but not now. Not when Kurt has seen maybe a fraction of everything that Dave has lost by being forced out of his closet.

There's one moment that stands out to Kurt as Dave being brave. A moment that neither of them has spoken of but Kurt is sure it's been on both of their minds, tonight especially.

_I think I love you_.

"I don't think you're a coward," Kurt says honestly.

"Yeah?" Dave snorts. " You're the only one."

"I'm serious."

"Name one thing that doesn't make me a coward."

Kurt wasn't going to say it. He didn't want to bring it up directly, but now he has no choice. "You told me that you loved me."

He waits for some kind of contradiction that Dave never makes.

Kurt realizes, for maybe the first time, that Valentine's Day was real. It's more than some awful memory that his brain dreamed up for him. It's real.

It's _now._

Dave makes the same face that he did that day, with his jaw clenched and his eyes wide, like a lost boy looking for his home.

It's worse, because there's a shine on his face where his tears are drying.

The silence that spreads between them is awful. Dave's eyes are still wet and that last sentence echoes back to Kurt in all of its horror.

"I thought it was really brave," he adds lamely, so that he can break the silence.

"Look where being brave got me," Dave whispers.

Dave passes Kurt and picks up his skates off the ground behind him. He seems to have totally forgotten about his jacket, tangled up in Kurt's arms.

"David, wait. That wasn't what I—I was just trying to point out—"

"Please just go." Dave climbs into his truck and leaves the door open. There's no fight in him anymore. He's expecting Kurt to push the matter, to keep this horrible conversation going.

That's what finally tells Kurt that it's time to stop. Kurt can argue with Dave's temper until he's blue in the face but when Dave's not pushing back, there's no use.

Kurt's not cruel enough to fight with Dave when he gets like this.

He hugs Dave as best as he can while Dave is sitting in his truck and Kurt's still on the ground.

Dave responds to the hug as briefly as he can, and that's Kurt's signal to let go.

"Promise me you'll be careful. I still don't like the thought of you driving right now."

"I will. I'm not going very far."

"Still, accidents can happen at any time. Whether you drive one block or a hundred miles—"

Dave gives Kurt an exasperated look. "It's after eleven on a Thursday. There aren't any other cars around."

"I worry."

Dave nods, but not because he believes Kurt. "Bye, Kurt."

"Bye, David. For now," he adds, because Dave's goodbye seems so final.

Dave smiles at that, but it's more of a cringe. Kurt's fairly certain that he has a similar look on his face.

Then Kurt backs up so Dave can pull his door closed.

Dave speeds out of the parking lot and the lights inside the Sportsplex turn off.

Kurt walks to his car with the wet lump of Dave's coat still bundled in his arms. He'd forgotten to give it back to Dave.

He makes the quiet drive back to his house with Dave's ugly denim jacket resting on his lap. It's cold and dirty and oddly enough, it brings Kurt some small sense of comfort.


	10. Kitchen Table

AN: In case anyone is wondering about the dates in this story, it started on Saturday April 28th and is now Thursday, May 3rd. Prom is set for May 12th. I attempted to come up with a timeline that fit with the major events in season 3 and also the air dates of the episodes (it was difficult). Basically, I started with "Dance With Somebody," where someone (Santana?) mentions there being 42 days left of school. So. I'm a stickler for continuity. Also, having a timeline helps me plot.

Also: I'm such a broken record on this, but thank you guys so much for all of your support (even though I repeatedly break your hearts).

A little bit of a shorter chapter, but it felt like a good stopping point. I'll try to write more on it tonight so I can get ch. 11 up sooner.

* * *

Chapter 10- Kitchen Table

The first thing that Kurt hears when he walks in the door is his dad's voice. "You want to tell me what you were doing out so late?"

The only positive thing that Kurt gleans from this is that if his dad is asking where he was, it means that Carole hasn't told him yet.

Burt is seated at the kitchen table with a newspaper when Kurt slowly approaches him, still clutching the soggy mass of denim that is Dave's coat.

"I was with a friend."

Burt raises his eyebrows and closes the newspaper. "'With a friend'?" he repeats, incredulous. "Until almost 11:30 on a school night."

"Apparently," Kurt says, dreading where this conversation is headed.

"What're you holding?"

"Oh, this?" Kurt fakes a laugh. "Isn't it, um. Stylish?"

Burt doesn't laugh.

Kurt sighs. "He left his coat outside on accident and I salvaged it for him."

Burt pushes out the chair opposite him with his foot, a clear indication for Kurt to join him at the table.

Kurt reluctantly sits down, wadded up jacket and all.

"You want to tell me which 'he' you were with tonight? Because I know that it wasn't Sam, and Finn was consoling Rachel over her NYADA audition. Now they've got some overnight thing helping Puck study for a geography test."

Kurt opens his mouth to interrupt, but Burt keeps talking. "It also wasn't Blaine, because you would've told me straight up if that's who you were with. "

Kurt folds the jacket in his lap, staring down at the table. "Dad, please don't freak out."

"Why would I freak out? Because you're going to tell me that you spent the last several hours with Dave Karofsky and you think that might upset me?"

"If you already knew then why ask me about it in the first place?" Carole told him after all. It's not that big of a surprise.

"Because I wanted to see if you would admit to it. Kurt, I don't think I need to explain to you how I feel about this."

"Then don't explain it," Kurt says, rising from the table and trying to make his escape.

Everyone is against Dave and Kurt can't really blame them for that. But Dave is in a dark place and yeah, sometimes he still acts like a douchebag, but what happened to giving someone a chance? What happened to helping someone through an awful time, with the assumption that they will come out of it a better, stronger person?

Is no one else willing to take that risk? Maybe if Dave had called other people and not just Kurt, then it would be different. More people would feel inclined to help. Even if it's selfish. Even if it's so they don't have to worry about getting that call again.

Just because something starts out selfish, doesn't mean that it can't turn self_less_ eventually.

Kurt is determined to feel good about helping Dave. No one—not even his dad, who he loves and respects, is going to take that away from him.

"Sit down. We're not done." Burt is eerily calm. He's surpassed yelling entirely, which is never a good sign.

Kurt sits, because he's had a long day and it's a lot easier than fighting.

"I think it's great that you're trying to be there for this guy. But you should not be the one to do this. He's dangerous."

"To himself," Kurt counters.

"And to you. Do I need to remind you what he did to you? What he did to our family? How you had to transfer away from your friends to an expensive private school?"

Kurt crosses his arms around the jacket. He waits for more.

"He has extremely violent tendencies, towards you and towards himself."

"I think I know him a little bit better than you do."

"I recognize that you're trying to do the right thing here, but you shouldn't be the one that has to do it."

People really need to stop telling him that.

"You haven't told me anything new. I'm aware of all of that."

"You need to turn down the attitude. I'm trying to do my job as a parent, here."

There's no good way for Kurt to _"turn down the attitude." _ Not when it comes to this. Not when it comes to Dave.

"Dad, I remember everything that Dave did to me. Vividly. Doesn't that say something about what I'm trying to do now? How much he's changed and how disheartening it is that out of everyone, _I'm_ the one who's trying to get him through this?"

Burt let's that sink in. He's not a man who likes to admit to defeat, but he's a mostly reasonable person when given the proper amount of time to mull things over.

Unless it's something that concerns his son, and then he holds grudges like nobody's business.

"Dad," Kurt pleads, "I remember the talk we had after we found out about Dave's suicide attempt, and how worried you were that I might have ever considered something like that."

"Yeah, well," Burt says, gruff like he gets when he's trying not to be emotional.

"You have made it clear to me on many occasions that my sexual orientation makes no difference to you."

Burt mutters something that sounds like "any reasonable parent."

"David—he doesn't have that. His dad seemed like a decent man when we met him, but he doesn't talk to David the way you talk to me. I don't think he's ever told David that he's OK the way he is. That there isn't anything wrong with him." Kurt wrings the jacket in his arms as he feels a lump twisting inside his throat while he breathes. He tries to swallow it down, but it refuses to budge. "And his mom wants him to get reorientation therapy and none of his friends want anything to do with him." The tears start falling again and Kurt wipes them away angrily, because he's trying to explain to his dad why this is so important and crying isn't going to make that any easier.

"And David feels so awful about everything that he's done, and he won't stop beating himself up over it—"

He wants to be done crying over this. He wants it to be just a bad memory. Something that he will always look back on with a tightness in his heart, but nothing more than that.

But the bad memories of this whole experience keep happening and everything is too fresh.

"Kurt," Burt cuts in, but Kurt doesn't listen.

"And my friends were trying to be helpful and I know a lot of them visited Dave in the hospital, and they meant well, but to Dave it's like, it's easy to act like you care, but to_ actually_ care—"

"Kurt," Burt says again, when Kurt can't wipe all of his tears away fast enough. "OK, I'll do it."

Kurt sniffs. "Do what?"

"I'll try to talk some sense into his parents. Or his dad, if his mom isn't willing to listen."

"I didn't ask you—"

"You shouldn't have to."

"Dad," Kurt says, grinning as best as he can around the tears, "thank you. I know this whole thing isn't fair."

"Life isn't fair. And for what it's worth, you're welcome. But I shouldn't have to tell you that."

Kurt rises up from this chair and collapses against his dad's chest. "I missed you. I mean, I miss you. All the time. Even now. Is that stupid?"

Burt squeezes him hard. "I miss you too, kiddo."

* * *

Kurt vanishes to his room, where his tears quietly subside. He texts Dave, _I have your jacket. If I hadn't rescued it for you, who knows how long it would've sat marinating in that puddle? Although, I'm not fully convinced that would have been a bad thing. It might've forced you to buy a decent fitting jacket, for once._

That was a totally inappropriate way to talk to Dave, considering how they left things. Kurt texts him a second time, _That was rude. What I meant to say was that I'm holding onto it for you and I will wash it tomorrow. I doubt you'll care if I iron it. Or be able to tell the difference._

OK, not much better. Is there an "off" switch for his bitchiness?

He tries a third time. _David, I'm sorry about the last two messages. And I'm sorry about the way we left things. I know that doesn't fix anything and it probably doesn't help very much, but I really do think you're a good person, whether you see it or not. You're so much more than just the worst parts of your parents._

Dave writes back maybe fifteen minutes later, after Kurt has given up waiting for a response: _I guess my mom left sometime after I did and she still isnt back _

There's a second message, a short one. This one reads: _I dont know if shes coming back_

And finally, _Kurt go to sleep. If ironing gets you off then whatever I dont care._

Kurt wishes that he could write back to Dave and tell him that he's sure that Dave's mom will come to her senses and realize everything she's leaving behind.

He's not that naïve. Maybe he was once upon a time, but that boy is long gone, locked away in a closet and pining after a quarterback that he will never have.

Eventually he falls asleep, still clutching his phone in case Dave texts him that his mom has come home.

Not necessarily that Dave would text him right away if that happened, but Kurt still hopes.

* * *

In the morning, he surfs through his texts in case he has a missed one from Dave, updating him on Dave's home life and his situation with his mom.

There's nothing new from Dave. There are a couple texts that he had forgotten about in the excitement of last night. A text from Chandler asking how his audition had gone, and a text from Blaine asking for an apology.

He sends a quick text off to Chandler, _My audition went really well, thanks for asking. My friend was not so lucky._

He's not sure what to say to Blaine, so he doesn't bother replying. He'll come up with something when he sees him at school.

Burt and Carole are sitting at the kitchen table with cups of coffee when Kurt comes downstairs.

He pours his own cup of coffee (usually he prefers his non-fat mochas, but drip will have to do) and grabs an apple out of the fruit bowl on the table.

"You have to tell me about this audition of yours," Burt says while Carole smiles and nods. "Haven't heard much, with Finn being at Rachel's all the time."

Kurt takes a deep drink of his coffee, buying himself time. "It went… really well." He sighs. "Sorry I'm not more excited about it. I was, I was thrilled, but Rachel forgot all the words to her song and I feel like I'm being a bad friend if I dismiss that in favor of my own excitement."

"Sweetie," Carole says, reaching out and resting her hand on his arm, "if you allow the disappointment of others to take away your own happiness, then you're going to lead a very sad life."

"I know, Carole. I'm trying to feel good about my audition." He turns his apple over in his hands, studies the way the light reflects off the red peel.

"There something else you want to tell us?" Burt asks, eyebrows raised in concern.

"I had another stupid fight with Blaine."

Kurt tells them about the parking lot after his audition, omitting the part where Blaine basically tried to get in his pants right then and there. He told them that after over a year of dating, it felt like Blaine was seeing him for the first time. Like Blaine had just been going through the motions and now he had discovered something about Kurt that was worth being attracted to.

He told them that Blaine was expecting him to apologize.

The only solution that they could come up with is "talk to him about it and if you want to you can invite him over for dinner."

Kurt has to leave for school after that.

He's no better off than he was this morning.

* * *

When Kurt gets to school, Blaine is waiting close enough to Kurt's locker to not be subtle, but far enough away that if Kurt doesn't approach him, he can make a dramatic exit that only Kurt would notice.

Kurt rolls his eyes, shuts his locker and thinks, _I may as well get this over with._

He makes solid eye contact with Blaine and waits to see if Blaine will come to him first.

Blaine doesn't move.

Kurt despises the way that Blaine leans so aggressively against the lockers with his arms crossed, and the way that he watches Kurt stalk up to him with a small amount of satisfaction buried in his eyes. Like he knew Kurt would come up to him eventually.

"I'm not going to apologize for anything," is the first thing Kurt says.

"You're not going to apologize for the incredibly rude way you spoke to me yesterday, after I took time out of my day to watch you perform and then told you how great I thought you were."

"No, Blaine. I'm not going to apologize for you taking time out of your day to _support your boyfriend in one of the most important moments of his life_ or for you 'telling me how great you thought I was' when you said it like you expected me to be awful."

Blaine straightens up, new anger flashing in his eyes. He steps closer to Kurt. "I realize that it's a big moment in your life. But to me, it reminds me that I'm losing you. So listening to a representative from a New York university tell you how great you were, wasn't exactly easy for me to hear."

Kurt opens his mouth to cut in, but Blaine holds up a hand to stop him, and continues talking before Kurt can get started. "Second, I don't know where you got this idea that I think you can't sing, but it's too preposterous for me to even begin to express and—I've got to go to class."

Blaine turns around without even batting an eye and before Kurt's brain has time to form any kind of coherent, rightfully spiteful thought, Blaine is out of eyesight.

* * *

Blaine eats lunch with Puck, Sam, Finn and Rachel over at the jock table. Kurt's own table with Mercedes, Tina and Mike feels empty without Blaine to fill in the missing space.

Kurt checks his phone for messages from Dave, but there's still nothing. He sends a message that he hopes is sincere and doesn't sound too overly polite, _I wish you a quiet and easy day today, where you can find time to appreciate something that might make you smile._

It's a bland, impersonal hallmark message, but he never knows when it's OK for him to be personal with Dave. Becoming too personal seems to upset him, but Dave needs people who are willing to get close to him.

Maybe what Dave really needs is a break from Kurt. They've spent an awfully large amount of time together in the past week, especially for people who never really talked for the entire time that they've known each other.

Dave writes back, _fuck that._

Kurt spends the rest of his lunch telling himself not to read too much into Dave's comment, and that if Dave had wanted Kurt to know what was going on, that Dave would have told him.

He's giving Dave space, for a little while. Still, he dwells on those two words like some great life force depends on it. He barely registers Mercedes chit-chatting to Tina about Sam, something dull that would probably answer the lingering question of whether or not Sam and Mercedes are together.

Right now, Kurt couldn't care about anything less. He can only think one single phrase, _fuck that._

* * *

Glee that day is all about Prom. Prom, coming up a week from tomorrow, who's going to wear what, who's going to sing what song, who's running for prom court and causing disturbances with the current couples in the club.

Blaine doesn't sit next to him, and acts so casual about sitting next to Mike that it's hard to tell if anyone notices that it's weird that Kurt is sitting by himself.

Normally, someone might notice. Rachel or Mercedes or Tina. But everyone is upset about one thing or another, people running for prom court with ex-girlfriends or stupid dinosaur themed proms (Santana, Artie and Sam defend Brittany for her prom theme like they've never heard an idea so brilliant) or bans on hair gel, which Blaine takes a personal offense to.

Blaine's taking a personal offense to a lot of things.

Glee gets over quickly, far too quickly for anything remotely productive to happen, especially for a group that is competing at Nationals in a little less than three weeks.

Everyone seems particularly short-tempered; Puck doesn't say a single thing the entire time and sits belligerently in a corner by himself, the way he used to when he was new to the club.

Everyone has deep shadows under their eyes. Rachel probably cried all night over her failed audition and it sounds like the rest of the guys were up all night helping Puck study.

No one bothers asking him how his test or whatever went, but from the looks of it, it wasn't good. Kurt can't ask him though, because Puck comes over to his house fairly often and sometimes they talk, but they aren't really friends. Besides, Kurt has enough problems without having a former tormentor bite his head off.

The club disassembles. Mr. Shue can't gain any sort of control over them and everyone is so exhausted that what they seem to need most is a break from each other, and there's no way to obtain that while they're stuck in the choir room.

When Chandler texts Kurt that his Chem tutoring was cut short, and asks if Kurt wants to meet him at the Lima bean for coffee, Kurt says yes without hesitating. He doesn't give a second thought to what Blaine or anyone else might think.

He needs some kind of refuge outside of Glee and the suicidal boy that Glee has forgotten.


	11. Coffee

AN: Another semi-short chapter. But this update came a lot faster, so hopefully that makes up for it.

* * *

Chapter 11—Coffee

It's odd to think that this is only the second time that Kurt has seen Chandler. After all of the flirty messages and all the drama with Blaine over Kurt "cheating," then the random phone call and texts over the past week, it feels like he's known Chandler a lot longer.

If feels like they're a lot closer than they actually are.

Chandler waits for Kurt at a small table next to the window. He's wearing the same beanie and thick-framed glasses, a couple layered t-shirts and blue-jeans that almost rival Kurt's in terms of tightness. Altogether, Kurt supposes that it's not a bad look for Chandler, though it's a little bit more casual and mismatching than what Kurt would normally prefer.

"Hey Kurt," Chandler calls when he sees Kurt walking up to his table. "Have you ever been to Africa?"

"No," he answers slowly, wondering if Chandler is losing it.

"Oh," Chandler says, "because Djibouti looks mighty fine in those jeans." He takes a sip of his coffee and grins.

"Hi Chandler," Kurt says in response, setting his bag down alongside the table and fishing his wallet out of it so he can order his coffee.

"Right. That whole boyfriend thing. Say no more." Chandler zips his lips and throws away the key. "Believe it or not, I didn't invite you here just to grace you with my cheesy pick-up lines."

"I thought you were over me." Kurt flips through his wallet, checking to see if he's got any cash tucked away. Looks like it's going to have to be on debit.

"Baby, I was never _under_ you. Sorry. I did it again." Chandler winces apologetically

"I'm going to order my coffee," Kurt says, shooting Chandler a look that he hopes Chandler will understand as _now is not the time_.

"_Sweets to the sweet, farewell!" _Chandler winks.

This could be a long coffee date. Except without the 'date' part.

Kurt returns a couple minutes later with his drink in hand, Chandler's perkiness wearing on him.

"I want to hear all about your big audition!" Chandler leans forward, like they're conspiring. "Did NYADA just love it?"

Kurt shrugs. "Yeah."

"And?" Chandler prompts.

"She said that Hugh Jackman would be proud.

"Hugh Jackman?" Chandler repeats, like he got lost in the conversation somewhere. Then he gasps, "Thief! You stole my song!" with a hand flung over his heart.

Kurt gives him a small smile. "That I did."

"Well, if you're going to steal another man's material, at least you can do justice to it. I don't think I quite managed it."

They fall into a discussion of lesser-known Broadway classics and the greats that they aspire to meet one day, after they've both made it big in New York.

It's comfortable and easy. It's a conversation that he might have had with Blaine, if things hadn't gotten so complicated between them.

It's a conversation that he was longing to have with someone, even if Chandler's enthusiasm brings the decimal level up a couple notches higher than what Kurt is comfortable with. Honestly, it reminds him of Mercedes, back in the days before they had boyfriends. When the two of them could laugh together and plan out the ridiculous things that they were going to do with their lives without having to worry about the looming deadline of when they were leaving Lima.

Chandler is relaxed and confident. Kurt wonders if Chandler feels that way on the inside, or if it's all just for show. If it is a ruse that he's putting on, he's doing it very convincingly.

Kurt is sure that his own attempt at self-confidence isn't fooling anyone anymore, if only someone would look close enough to see that.

Everyone's got blinders on, wrapped up in their own lives. Even Dave, who always thought that Kurt seemed so sure of himself. He's probably the most oblivious of all, locked on that image of Kurt as this self-assured gay role model.

The repetition of the words _New York_ starts up a dull throb in his head. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, but the air smells like coffee and his stomach clenches. Best not to drink any more.

"Any luck with your mystery man?" Kurt says, in a desperate attempt to move the conversation away from their upcoming futures. It's a weak attempt at a change of subject, but if Chandler notices Kurt's unease, it doesn't faze him.

He jumps into the new topic with just as much gusto.

"I don't think it's going to work out," Chandler says cheerfully. "Although I am fairly sure that he's gay."

"Why not?" Kurt asks, wanting so badly to be invested in this. To be able to push his own worries out of his head long enough to focus on the love story of a boy he hardly knows and one he's never met.

Chandler's smile drops for the first time since Kurt got there. His actions slow and his gestures shrink. He glances around them, double checking that no one else is looking their way.

"There's a rumor," he starts, eyes wide behind his thick glasses, "that he tried to—" Chandler slides his index finger across his neck, Adam's apple bobbing in its wake. He lowers his hand and swirls his cup around the table in a bit of spilled coffee, silent for once.

Thank god (if he's up there) for this tiny, coffee spattered table. Or else, Kurt's mocha would be dumped all over that artificial wood floor.

Kurt reminds himself to breathe, because it might not be Dave. It could easily be some other sexually confused, lost boy.

Who also tried to kill himself.

A tickle starts building in the bridge of his nose, gradually becoming a burning sensation that notifies him of imminent tears.

He clings to his mocha, hoping it will ground him, but the heat from the paper cup does nothing to warm his frozen hands.

_It might not be Dave. It might not be Dave_, he chants to himself, over and over. But if it isn't Dave, then it's some other miserable gay boy, and that's not any better because this keeps happening and Kurt can't do anything to stop it.

Chandler forces a smile and asks Kurt a question that may or may not be about the Tonys, but whatever it is he's asking, it comes to Kurt muffled, as if from a great distance.

Kurt excuses himself and heads for the restroom, oblivious to any reaction on Chandler's part.

The Lima Bean only has one bathroom and it's one of those family-style restrooms with a fold down changing table and metal bars for handicap access.

Luckily there's no wait and Kurt rushes in despite his hatred of public restrooms, slamming the door behind him and locking it furiously.

_It might not be Dave,_ his brain repeats, but there's absolutely no comfort in it.

He skims through his texts, frantic, desperate for some kind of clue.

There is nothing expect the tiny text bubbles on his phone. There's no bathroom with a lone pubic hair that always clings to the underside of the toilet seat. No air freshener pumping musty flower-scented perfume into the air. No soap dispenser that looks like it's in need of a good lathering itself.

Kurt's not even sure that he's in the room.

The only text he has from Chandler provides him with the same information that Chandler had already told him, that there were rumors going around about this guy.

His brain clings to the word "rumors" and he tries not to give into the wild hope that whoever this kid is, the rumors aren't true.

Dave's texts don't help him either. Dave hasn't texted him anything about chemistry or tutoring.

He runs through everything that Dave has ever said to him about his Chemistry tutoring, but once Kurt pieces together that Dave tutors Chemistry and Kurt is with Chandler because his Chemistry tutor canceled on him, all hope is lost.

Kurt recalls Chandler and Dave both ignoring his call while he practiced _Not the Boy Next Door_, and Dave telling him later that he was at tutoring.

Dave, texting Kurt that he goes to North Lima high, which, unless Kurt is mistaken, is where Chandler told him that he went when they first met.

Then Chandler, telling Kurt about the "new guy" in his Chemistry class, something about this guy being tall and strong.

And the last clue is whatever Dave told Kurt about not wanting Kurt to meet the guy he's tutoring. What was it that Dave had said? Something about the world not being ready for it? Kurt can't remember, but he's fairly sure that he replied with something about the tutee being "fabulous" like himself, and Dave laughing it off.

The chance that Dave is not the "mystery man" in question gets slimmer by the second. Kurt feels like an idiot for not thinking of it sooner. It was practically staring him in the face.

He puts his phone in his pocket and washes his hands because he feels like he should do something bathroom-related while he's holed up in there.

He figures that he better leave his sanctuary before Chandler thinks that he's sick or something, so exits and is met with a very impatient-looking middle-aged woman.

He mumbles "excuse me" and slips past her, dreading each step that brings him closer to Chandler's table.

"Are you OK?" Chandler asks when Kurt takes up his seat.

Kurt could try to smile and come up with some excuse. Or he could just ask the unavoidable question.

"I'm sorry I brought that subject up," Chandler says, speaking up when Kurt doesn't appear to be capable of talking. "I don't know you very well and I didn't realize it would be such a sensitive subject."

Chandler is still looking at Kurt with big, worried eyes and it takes Kurt a few seconds of looking at him before his brain clicks in tells him that Chandler thought he was upset because maybe he had been suicidal once.

"No," Kurt says, finding his voice, "It's not—I never—" He stops. Gathers himself. "It's just that, I think I know the guy you're talking about."

"Don't you go to McKinley?"

"Yes."

"Well, this guy transferred from Thurston. So I think the chances of you knowing him are—"

"I definitely know him."

Chandler raises his eyebrows and waits from him to elaborate.

"It's Dave Karofsky, isn't it? This whole time, he's the guy you've been telling me about. The one in your class who tutors you after school."

"How do you—"

"He went to McKinley before Thurston. So when everything happened at Thurston- when it happened, our teachers told us because we knew him. I should have figured it would only be a matter of time before it spread to his new school."

"I don't understand. You're friends with him? Not that Dave's not great and attractive and everything, and I know that I don't know you very well, but it doesn't seem like you have very much in common."

"Dave and I are friends," Kurt says, his voice hard.

Chandler leans back. "Whoa, sorry. My mistake."

"It's OK. Sorry. It's just. Complicated. So, Dave's in your Chemistry class?"

Chandler nods. "Kind of. From what I understand, he took AP Chemistry last year and he was starting to take Chemistry at Lima Community College but had to drop the class and my teacher is helping him as kind of an independent study type of thing, so that Dave can hopefully test out of that college Chemistry class once the new quarter starts."

"Chandler," Kurt says slowly, as his fascination with Dave's Chemistry knowledge drains away and is replaced, once again, by his concern over everyone at North Lima knowing Dave's deepest secrets. "You're supposed to have tutoring with Dave right now, aren't you?"

Chandler nods again and comes up with a small smile. "Yeah, but he canceled. He told me that he didn't think I needed tutoring today."

"Does Dave typically cancel on you?"

"No, not really."

"OK, I've got to go. We'll continue another time, OK?" Something's wrong with Dave if he's skipping out on tutoring.

"Yeah, OK," Chandler says, confused as ever and still looking worried. "Bye, Kurt."

Kurt barely has time to throw a "bye" over his shoulder before he's out the door, coffee forgotten and mostly untouched on the table.

He's calling Dave while he slams the door shut on his Navigator. He's too impatient to wait to drive home and call.

It takes Dave a long time to answer. He picks up the phone with an exhausted, "What do you want, Kurt?"

What does he want, really? To make sure that Dave is still alive? To find out if he's any worse off with all those rumors flying around than he was before?

"I, well. That guy you tutor for Chemistry? I know him."

"Yeah, and what do you want me to do about it?"

"I was with him just now and he told me that you canceled tutoring."

"So?"

"He said that you've never canceled on him before. Did he magically become good at Chemistry?"

"No, he's awful."

"Then why did you cancel on him?"

"What difference does it make to you why I canceled?" There it is. The Karofsky temper.

Kurt watches the front doors of the Lima bean. Dave is making this conversation so much more complicated than it needs to be and the last thing that Kurt needs is for Chandler to catch him on his phone, hiding out in his car.

Kurt forces his voice to get softer. He had allowed himself to get riled up by Dave (which he's sure was Dave's intention) and he needs to show Dave that he's not affected. He's not going to be that easily swayed. "David, is everything OK?"

Dave pauses. "What did Chandler tell you?" There's still some anger in his voice and Kurt can't tell who it's directed at. If it's him or Chandler or whoever started spreading the rumors in the first place.

"He told me that some things were going around school but he said that no one knows if they're true." A little bit of an exaggeration of the term "rumors," but Kurt wants to pretend that's what Chandler had actually said.

"What's your point? I've got things to do."

He's being so stubborn and irritating, probably on purpose. "My point is that you didn't tell me that this was going on!"

"Now really isn't a good time to get into this, but I don't have to tell you shit. I need to handle some things on my own, without you constantly breathing down my back all the fucking time."

At least Dave didn't hang up on him after saying that. That's got to count for something.

"Excuse me? Breathing down your back? _You_ involved _me_ in this. You're the one who set up Valentine's Day and wouldn't stop calling me and started texting me and—"

Dave's breathing is unsteady as it comes through Kurt's cell phone. Kurt hunches down in his seat in a pseudo fetal position, blocking any view he had out of his windows. He focuses on Dave's voice, how he can switch so quickly from being pissed off to being… nothing. Detached.

"I don't need a fucking lecture. My mom is packing some things." His emotions filter back to him and it's like he has to get reminded that he needs to feel sad about this. That he's supposed to feel sad about everything. "She said she needs to get away for a few days. For the weekend. But she hasn't stopped going through her things and I really need to figure out what's going on. OK?"

"David, I didn't know, I'm so sorry, I didn't know." Kurt keeps mumbling to Dave, "I'm sorry, David, I'm so sorry."

Dave lets him carry on for a bit, then finally breaks Kurt's rambling sympathies with "I'll stop involving you."

"No, David, wait. That's not what I—"

Dave hangs up the phone.

Kurt could call him back. But it would only distract Dave from finding out if his mom's weekend away from home is going to end on Sunday, or if it'll end in a week, or if it's going to end at all.

He doesn't need Kurt right now. He needs focus on his family, on finding out if he'll ever get his mom back.

Kurt jumps out of his seat when there's a knock on his window. Chandler stands by his door with his backpack slung over one shoulder, looking anxious.

Kurt sticks his key in the ignition and starts his car so he can roll down the window. It would've been easier to open the door, but it feels too invasive.

Kurt doesn't even really look at him.

"I know we don't know each other very well, but you can call me anytime. I promise I won't try to steal you away from your boyfriend. If you ever need to talk."

Kurt bows his head and says "thanks," still not turning completely to face him.

There's not a whole lot of Kurt left to steal from Blaine.

This one, quiet realization (it's not even that surprising) feels like the beginning of the end of their relationship.

No. Not even the beginning. He's already a little bit past the beginning.

He wonders if Blaine knows that.

Chandler backs up from the car and starts to walk away. Kurt calls out to him, "Do you ever talk to Dave?"

"Besides about Chemistry? A little. Never about anything important."

"It doesn't have to be important, but please keep talking to him. I don't think he has very many friends." If he has any, besides Kurt.

Chandler nods. He's got a stunned, fearful look on his face. It was probably there for a while and Kurt just finally brought it out of him. "You've basically confirmed those rumors."

Kurt would apologize to Chandler but what would he actually be apologizing for? For making Chandler slightly more aware that sometimes the world is so awful that people do horrible things to themselves so that they don't have to live in it anymore?

Instead, Kurt says nothing. He rolls up his window.


	12. Dinner

AN: Thanks to everyone who has kept with this story even though so far it's been really depressing.

* * *

Chapter 12—Dinner

Finn is fuming at their family dinner. All the way through their salads he complains about Rachel getting mad at him for campaigning with Quinn for prom court.

"It's not like I'm dating Quinn. Rachel's my fiancée. I just feel bad for Quinn with her accident and everything," Finn says while they start in on their roasted chicken and mashed potatoes.

"Dude, girls are complicated," is Sam's advice.

"How'd it go today with Blaine?" Burt asks Kurt.

Carole wipes her mouth and looks invested in the conversation for the first time since they sat down.

Finn exchanges a glance with Sam. This is the first time that he's heard about Kurt having problems with Blaine, since Finn had been out of the house so much, helping Rachel with her audition.

"Basically he told me that I have unreasonable expectations. I guess it's too much for me to want him to be supportive of me without complaining about how hard it is for him."

"Wait, if you're having problems with Blaine, is that the only reason why he ate lunch with us today?"

Kurt frowns at his stepbrother.

"Thanks for the input, Finn."

"Boys, no fighting at the table," Burt says.

Sam snickers around his mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"Kurt, I'm sure Blaine is trying to be supportive of you, it's just hard for him to express that because he cares about you and doesn't want to lose you," Carole says.

"Seems like, if he can't _show _that he cares about you or loves you or whatever, that it doesn't matter if he actually does," Sam pipes up.

Kurt sets his fork down and it clatters against his plate. "What?"

"I mean, if it doesn't feel honest, that should be the only thing that's important."

"Hey Sam, how's that thing with Mercedes going?" Finn asks.

Mercedes regularly tells Sam that she's not sure if she wants to start a relationship right now. But somehow, during the whole thing with Shane, Mercedes acted like she wanted Sam instead.

"Didn't you call her like three times last night, trying to convince her to go to prom with you?"

"Shut up, Finn."

Sam is silent for the rest of the conversation about Blaine, while Carole tries to placate Kurt.

Burt looks up from his plate several times during the conversation, like he wants to add something but is biting his tongue.

Conversation dies down as the meal comes to a close and Burt calls everyone to a halt when they start getting ready to clear the table.

"I've got something pretty important to discuss with all of you."

Everyone settles back in their seats. Carole is the only one who looks like she knows what's going on. Sam, Finn and Kurt all exchange wary, questioning looks.

"I called Paul Karofsky earlier today." Burt lets this sink in. He clarifies, "Dave Karofsky's dad," in case it wasn't clear to Finn or Sam.

The two boys look more confused than anything, but Kurt knows exactly what this is about.

"It has been brought to my attention that since everything that has happened with Dave in recent news, he might still be lacking familial support." This information is still for Finn and Sam. Kurt was the one who told his dad about it in the first place and it's obvious that Burt has already talked this over with Carole.

Finn mouths the word "familial?" to Sam. Sam shrugs.

"Family," Kurt says. "He isn't getting support from his family. Honestly Finn, you should study off of Sam's flashcards, too."

"Anyway," Burt cuts in, growing impatient. "It sounds like things have been rough for a while and I'm getting the impression that they don't have a whole lot of people to talk to about this, at least not people who will be supportive in the right way."

_The right way._ Because unfortunately, the Karofskys could probably find plenty of people to talk to, but they wouldn't' necessarily be the "equal rights for gays" type of people.

"Things sounded pretty hectic over there so it was a short conversation, but the bottom line is Dave and his old man are coming for dinner tomorrow."

"That's so soon!" Kurt says, unable to believe that his dad got them to agree to come over on such short notice.

"I might have stressed how much time out of my week I spend in Washington."

"I don't understand," is the first thing Finn comes up with. "You're trying to help Dave? After everything with Kurt?"

Burt grows a few years after processing that question. His answer is calculated, obviously planned but not something he actually wanted to recite. "I'm not going to pretend that I've forgiven this kid for what happened. But you reach a certain age and you realize that just because someone wronged you, doesn't mean that they will wrong everyone they ever meet. Maybe Dave is capable of being a good guy and not everyone will know him as the jerk he was in high school."

Kurt knows exactly what his dad is talking about. He knows _who_ his dad is talking about and it's not just Dave.

It's something that his dad has only mentioned briefly a couple times, but Kurt remembers vividly how his dad referenced the homophobic jock he used to be.

"Now," Burt says, "the Karofskys are coming for dinner tomorrow and that's that." He scans the table, looking everyone in the eye. "Questions?" he asks, like there better not be any.

"Yeah, actually," Finn says, oddly small even though he dwarfs his chair. "His mom's not coming?"

"She's out of town," Burt answers, leaving no room for argument. Kurt wants to ask how much his dad knows. If his dad really believes that Dave's mom is just "out of town," or if he's aware that she might be moving out of her house entirely. "Next?"

"Do you want me to be there?" Sam asks. "If it's meant to be a one-family-to-another type of dinner, I don't want to get in the way. I could find something else to do."

"Sweetie, you wouldn't be getting in the way. You're a part of this family, too," Carole says.

"No, Carole, that's a good question. Kurt? What do you think? You've been talking to Dave a lot this past week, do you think he'd appreciate more people being involved?" his dad prompts him.

Kurt thinks for a moment. No matter what, Dave is going to hate the entire night. On the one hand, Dave's private life has already become a source of in-town gossip, so the fewer people at dinner, the better. But on the other…

"Honestly Dad, David is terrified of you."

Finn nods. He's been on the receiving end of Burt's wrath, so he understands the fear even if they're past it now.

"Realistically, David isn't going to want to be anywhere near you if he can help it."

It's clear that Burt is a tiny bit offended by this and is working up to a speech of indignation.

"What does that have to do with me?" Sam questions.

"What that has to do with you is that you're one more person who can help take the strain off of Dave being around Dad. You were in football together. You can talk about sports or something."

"You're awfully protective of this guy," But says, eyes narrowed. "It's not going to be a picnic for me either, sitting down to eat with the kid who harassed my son."

"I understand that, Dad. I didn't mean it like that."

"So, Sam stays for dinner," Carole summarizes. "Paul and Dave will be getting here around 5:00."

"What if I had plans with Rachel?" Finn asks.

"Too bad." Burt stands and carries his dishes to the sink.

Carole follows her husband, and once both are away from the table, Sam says to Finn, "Rachel's mad at you. She wouldn't go on a date with you right now."

"Hey, just because you're stuck with this dinner tomorrow doesn't mean that I can't try to get out of it."

"Wow, tomorrow's going to be a lot of fun," Kurt says sarcastically, snatching up his own dishes and striding over to the sink.

Finn and Sam have the good sense to shut up after that, at least while Kurt is in earshot, though neither one of them has changed their minds about not wanting to be involved in a Hummel-Hudson-Karofsky gathering.

Burt lingers in the kitchen until everything is put away, which is unusual, because normally Carole finishes up the dishes. He makes eye contact with Kurt a few times while tidying up the counter tops, so Kurt assumes that his dad has words for him and waits until everyone else has cleared out.

"About you and Blaine," Burt says once they're alone. "I think you're being a little self-centered about this."

"You think _I'm_ being self-centered?"

Burt raises his eyebrows.

"You think I'm being self-centered about me and Blaine?" he clarifies, because yeah, he can be self-centered at times and he knows it. That's what's come out of being an only child and having one parent for most of his life.

"You're growing up. Graduating high school. Leaving the state. Your entire life is ahead of you and New York has a much larger gay community than a place like Lima, Ohio does, so of course Blaine doesn't want you to leave. He's going to be stuck in high school while you're out meeting other guys 500 miles away."

"So you're saying that this is my fault? That I'm the one causing problems, because I'm a grade higher and I'm going away for college."

"I'm saying that maybe you're ignoring the way he feels about this. But I'm also trying to say that he's being self-centered too and is ignoring the way you might feel about starting a new life in another state."

"Great, so we're both self-centered. Thanks for the pep talk."

"Attitude, Kurt. And I wasn't finished. Get back here."

Kurt glares at him. Burt continues anyway.

"There is nothing wrong with both of you wanting to focus on yourself. The only way that it becomes a problem is if you can't both take the time to understand where the other one is coming from."

Kurt nods. "Thanks, dad."

"S'what I'm here for," he replies, throwing an arm around Kurt's shoulders and squeezing him. "When did you get taller than me?"

"You must've been in D.C.," Kurt tries to joke, but it isn't funny.

"I hate that I'm missing things."

"D.C. is a lot closer to New York than Ohio is." It doesn't make Kurt feel that much better.

Burt pulls Kurt in for a real, full-on hug.

When the hug is over they both shuffle awkwardly, trying to avoid showing how emotional they are.

Kurt breaks the silence with something that he had been waiting to say all through dinner, and he's kind of nervous about bringing it up, but it needs to be said. "Thanks for calling the Karofskys."

"Don't thank me until it's over."

It's so ominous of a response that Kurt really wants to ask what happened with the phone call between Burt and Dave's dad. Again, he wants to ask what his dad knows. He needs to know if they're on the same page. Or maybe his dad knows something completely different, something that Kurt can't guess at. Screw being on the same page, they might be on separate books entirely.

* * *

Kurt holes himself up in his room. He gets out his phone, ready to call Dave to see if he's been informed of their upcoming dinner.

Then he remembers that Dave had wanted Kurt to leave him alone, so calling probably isn't the best way to contact Dave.

He figures that a text is safe enough and that Dave is free to ignore it if he wants to.

He sends, _My dad says that you are your dad are coming for dinner tomorrow. My dad won't bite your head off, don't worry. _

It's surprisingly difficult to come up with something positive to add to the end of that. The best he can do is assure Dave that he's welcome in the house and that everyone is trying to make this as easy for him as possible.

Dave sends him_, Looking forward to it_, and Kurt reads it as, _Dreading it_.

Great.

* * *

Rachel's in a huff about prom court and everyone else is busy, so Kurt resolves himself to getting ahead on his math homework. What a thrilling Friday night. It's either that or continuing to go through his things and label them for transit, but he really doesn't want to think about moving right now.

Too much is going on in Lima for him to consider how soon he's leaving it behind.

There's a knock on his door about an hour later.

Kurt gets up to answer it, glad for the distraction from his text book, and opens his door to reveal Finn, currently on his cell phone.

"Hold on dude, one sec," Finn says into his phone. He lowers it and tells Kurt, "Blaine's here for you," before he's back to his conversation, heatedly speaking into his phone as he walks away, "What do you mean, you're _not sure_ if you passed it?"

_Blaine's here for you._ Like, _out to get him_, "here for you?" Maybe he's seen one too many horror movies recently, because his mind turns Finn's flippant "Blaine's here" into "Blaine's coming for you."

He's already focusing on how sinister that sounds while he reaches the stairs to go down and meet his boyfriend.

Blaine looks up at him from the bottom step.

Blaine is so tiny at the bottom of the stairs, with his neatly gelled hair and his hand poised on the railing. Like some preppy, overgrown child with his large, sad eyes.

Kurt gestures him up the stairs and retreats back into his bedroom.

The two boys are quiet for a moment, sitting at the foot of Kurt's bed. Their shoulders touch but their hands don't.

Kurt crosses his arms and hugs his chest while Blaine's hands clench and unclench in his lap.

They avoid looking at each other.

Finally, Blaine speaks. "I didn't want to go all weekend with the way we left things at school."

"The way _you_ left things."

Blaine jerks his head up, gaping at Kurt, wounded. "There's two of us in this relationship, Kurt."

"I know that!" Kurt throws his hands up and he's off the bed, spinning around to face Blaine, staring him down. "Can't you accept some responsibility? You're acting like I'm abandoning you! Like I'm doing it on purpose! And I don't think that you understand that it's not you! I'm leaving _everyone_."

Blaine's eyes widen and he braces himself on the bed, like he's afraid of this deranged version of his boyfriend and isn't sure how to respond.

Kurt's on a roll, so he carries on regardless. "And sometimes it feels like I'm not really leaving everyone, but everyone is leaving me and—and I'm scared."

"Me too," Blaine says, but for a different reason. "Kurt, take a deep breath. No one is leaving you."

Kurt shakes his head, squeezes his eyes shut. Blaine is still sitting on his bed, leaning away from him and _not getting it._

"Why are we dating if we can't see eye-to-eye on this?"

Blaine doesn't answer. Hardly even moves.

"What are we doing?"

That snaps Blaine out of his stupor. "Come here." He reaches up and grabs Kurt's hands, pulling him back down to the bed. "We're sitting in your room and we're talking. No one is leaving anyone. It's you and me."

Kurt looks at him blankly. What is Blaine talking about? Then it hits him. Blaine is answering his question. _"What are we doing?"_

Kurt tries to smile, to offer Blaine some small token of appreciation for attempting to make Kurt feel better. But the smile doesn't come and he knows that if he tries too hard to force it, that tears will come in its place.

Blaine obviously didn't understand the question. He wraps his arms around Kurt like he just said something that will magically fix all of Kurt's problems.

_It's you and me._

"Can you do something for me?" Kurt whispers into his shoulder.

"Of course."

"Can you tell me that you love me, and—"

"I love—"

"No, wait." Kurt tucks his head against Blaine's neck. Breathing is becoming more challenging. "Tell me that you love me, and tell me what's wrong with me."

"What? That doesn't make any sense." Blaine loosens his hold on Kurt, but Kurt clings to him anyway.

"Please? I'll start. I'm a perfectionist, often to the point of ridicule."

"There's nothing wrong with being a perfectionist, Kurt. I am too."

"Sometimes I act like I'm better than everyone."

"That's ridiculous. No you don't."

"I'm bossy."

"Kurt, look at me."

Kurt reluctantly pulls away. He's sure his face is a mess and he can't handle the earnestness in Blaine's eyes. "I love you, and you're not bossy."

"But I am."

Blaine shakes his head.

"Blaine, do you see my flaws? I know I've got them. And if you say that you love me, but you don't love those things about me, or you don't even notice them, then you don't really love me, do you? You only love parts of me."

"Where is all this coming from?" Blaine asks, finally realizing that this is serious, that his relationship is in jeopardy.

_Where is it coming from_, really?

It's coming from Dave's mouth. It's coming from _"You're such a bitch sometimes,"_ and _"I think I love you."_

"I need to be alone for a little while," Kurt says, enunciating each word carefully, evenly.

"OK, I'll go," Blaine says, looking put out about having to leave so soon, especially when Kurt is upset.

"I don't just mean tonight."

Kurt practically buries himself in Blaine's neck a second time and that's probably not the best move for someone who is half-breaking-up with their boyfriend.

Part of the problem, Kurt thinks, is that Blaine's eyes are too big. It's too easy for him to watch the moisture build in them, while Blaine rises to his feet, stunned.

Each step that it takes Blaine to get to the door, it's like what Kurt said hits him again, a little bit harder each time.


	13. Grocery Store

Chapter 13—Grocery Store

Kurt stays locked up in his room for a good portion of Saturday morning and afternoon.

He doesn't hear anything from Dave but he's not expecting to. Knowing the few things that Kurt does about Dave, Kurt assumes that Dave is most likely isolating himself and freaking out in private because he won't allow himself to do it where other people can see him.

Much like what Kurt is doing right now.

Chandler texts him, something small and trivial that Kurt forgets immediately after reading it.

He checks his phone for texts from Blaine almost compulsively, unsure of whether or not he's waiting for a message or making sure that one doesn't come in.

He goes back and forth on his decision to break up with Blaine. If that's even what happened.

Yes, they had been having problems and yes, they weren't that affectionate with each other anymore. Does that mean that Kurt wants Blaine out of his life completely?

When Kurt gets too anxious from thinking about things that it's too late to change, (he's already on a break with Blaine, he can't go back in time and take that away,) he cycles through his sticky notes, labeling and re-labeling all of the things that remind him of Blaine.

There are so many of them.

They were together for over a year, after all.

Blaine has etched himself into so many aspects of Kurt's life.

Blaine is at Dalton, telling Kurt that he'll be safe from harassment. Blaine is at show choir competitions, wooing the crowds with his voice like melted butter. Blaine is in every room of Kurt's house, especially Kurt's room, where they talked about having sex for the first time and where they actually had sex for the second time. He's at the lima bean, telling Kurt that he loves him over two hot coffees on a sunny summer day. He's even at McKinley, in the choir room and in the hallways. Waiting for Kurt at his locker after school.

There's an explosion from downstairs. A blast from whatever video game Finn and Sam are playing together.

It's a sound that Kurt has come to accept as another part of his life living with Finn and it's only increased in frequency since Sam started staying with them as well.

Finn is yelling something at the TV, something that could potentially be about someone on Finn's team not being a good player? There's also something, Kurt thinks, about Finn getting stabbed in the back, though figuratively or literally, Kurt couldn't say.

A voice that's neither Sam nor Finn. Puck, with a menacing retort, as he slams his controller onto the coffee table.

Kurt didn't know that Puck was over.

He checks the time. 3:00. That means only two more hours until Dave and his dad show up.

Probably time to give up shuffling through his sticky notes and join the other living people downstairs. He only left his room for a quick breakfast and a shower, it's about time that he stopped living in solitude.

Plus, there's a chance that Finn has forgotten what time Dave is coming over and could probably use a reminder. In Finn's case, reminders never hurt.

He grabs his phone, checks one last time for a text from Blaine and emerges from his room.

The volume from whatever miscellaneous game is ludicrous. The three boys are spread out around the living room and sprawled out on the furniture in varying states of slouching. They've all got the same look of intense concentration on their faces, except Puck has angry furrows in his forehead. He doesn't smile or laugh like Finn and Sam.

They don't hear Kurt come up behind them. You'd think that boys who are supposed to be good at anticipating plays from another team would be better at hearing what is directly behind them.

Extreme tunnel vision.

Kurt plucks the remote off of the armrest closest to Finn and mutes the volume.

Apparently they can't function without losing their hearing at the same time, so as soon as the sound is cut, there's a huge explosion and a couple people die immediately. Judging from their reactions, it must've been two of them and not computer players.

"What the hell?" Finn greets him, tossing up his hands in frustration, controller still clenched in one of them.

"Thanks Kurt," Sam says sarcastically.

Puck doesn't do anything, really. He lowers his controller and frowns more deeply. Oh well. It's not like Kurt and Puck have conversations on anything resembling a regular basis.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" Kurt asks Finn in a serious voice that leaves little room for argument. Finn responds best to authority.

Finn stares back at him. "Dude, what's with you? You've been acting weird all day."

Best not to respond to that. "In the kitchen," Kurt points, and stalks off with his arms crossed.

He waits for Finn with his back turned. Behind him, Sam and Puck are silent. The couch creaks when Finn stands up and Kurt can tell from Finn's aggressive walk that he's not happy.

"The hell is your problem?" Finn asks once he's in front of Kurt.

Kurt keeps his arms crossed tight over his chest. "Puck's leaving in the next hour, right?"

"I don't know. Does it matter?"

"Yes, Finn. It matters. David and his dad will be here in less than two hours."

"So?"

Kurt squints up at Finn and shifts his weight. What about this is Finn not getting? "So," Kurt drawls, "Puck can't be here when David gets here."

"Why not? Sam's going to be there."

"Sam is living with us right now. That's the difference."

"You said something about Sam and Karofsky talking football and Puck's on the team, too." Finn lowers his voice and adds, "Plus, something's up with Puck. I get the feeling that something's bothering him and I wanted to spend some time with him. Try to cheer him up and find out what's wrong."

"You mean you think Puck might be mad about something?" Kurt asks sarcastically.

"I think it's that test he took. He was worried he didn't do so hot."

"Regardless, tonight is really important. The less people involved, the better."

"Important to who? To the Karofskys, or to you?"

"Both," Kurt challenges, though he's got no proof. "Does it matter?"

"You seem awfully wrapped up in this, talking about Dave and inviting him over." _And going ice skating_, Kurt thinks, but Finn might not know about that. "I saw Blaine leave last night and he looked like he was crying. What's going on? Did you guys break up?"

"No, Finn, we didn't—" Kurt stops. Changes his mind. "I don't know, actually."

Finn rests a comforting hand on Kurt's shoulder. "If things aren't working out with Blaine, that doesn't mean that you have to go running to the only other gay guy you know. You'll meet someone else."

Kurt pushes off his hand. "That's not even—you just made so many incorrect assumptions—"

Finn makes a time-out sign. "Whoa, stepbrother here. Trying to help."

"Well, don't." Kurt starts walking off, searching for something to distract him for the next hour and a half.

"Hey, Kurt. Wait." Kurt turns around. "Do you have your history book at home?"

"Yes," Kurt says questioningly.

"Cool, that's all. Thanks."

Kurt shoots Finn a look and leaves the kitchen.

Kurt finds his dad organizing the garage. Burt tells Kurt that he "wanted to get away from the noise" of the boys playing their video game. He has to shower before the Karofskys come over and Carole is at the store getting food for dinner.

Kurt goes back to the living room, where he promises not to touch the remote, and he does his best to not to fret over what's going to happen when Dave steps through the front door.

He finally does text Dave, just to make sure that he's not too nervous. He texts Dave, _How are you doing? Dinner soon._

Dave writes him, _Not excited. Dad doesn't seem too thrilled either._

* * *

The TV is finally down to a respectable volume so they can hear the doorbell. 5:00 finally rolls around, then 5:01 and 5:02. Kurt is about to lose his mind by the time it's finally 5:07 and Mr. Karofsky rings the doorbell.

Kurt leaps up from the couch to answer the door, racing to get there first even though none of the boys are in any hurry to get there. Kurt plasters a smile on his face and opens the door with, "Hello, Mr. Karofsky. Nice to see you again."

Kurt looks over to Dave, standing slightly behind his dad on the porch step, and his smile drops a fraction. Mr. Karofsky may be ignorant to Kurt's pleasantries (he doesn't seem all-together there in general) but Dave's look of "Seriously, Kurt?" comes through despite the terror on his face.

Dave is clutching a Pyrex pie pan covered with clumpy plastic wrap. He holds it like he's not sure how it got in his hands in the first place.

"Please, come in," Kurt says, gesturing them inside.

They step over the threshold and Kurt closes the door, barricading them.

Dave fidgets with his pie and smooths his thumbs over the plastic. His eyes dart into the corners of the living room, where Finn is turning off their game, and into the section of kitchen that is visible from the entryway.

Mr. Karofsky looks enviously at the pie in Dave's hands, like he is empty, purposeless without something to hold onto.

Carole emerges from the kitchen with a huge smile prepared on her face. "Paul, it's so nice to see you again. Can I take your coat?"

Mr. Karofsky shrugs off his jacket and hands it over with a "Thank you, Carole." He's wearing a somewhat ill-fitting button down shirt tucked around his thick frame. He's maybe an inch or two shorter than Dave (if Dave would ever stand up straight) and a little burlier.

"David, it's probably been eight years since I saw you last."

"Something like that," Dave mumbles, gripping his pie.

"Of course I've seen you on the football field, but not in person since…"

"Yeah," Dave says.

Not in person since when? Since Dave and Finn were friends in elementary school? Probably.

"What did you bring?" she asks brightly, overcompensating for the awkward conversation.

"It's cherry," Dave says, handing her the pie and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Susie's recipe," Mr. Karofsky adds. "Nothing better than her pies."

A hurt look crosses Dave's face and he quickly lowers his eyes to stare at the floor. "I made it."

Mr. Karofsky doesn't notice the effect his words had on his son. He doesn't seem to notice much of anything that's directly in front of him.

"I'm sure it will be delicious. I'll go put it in the kitchen." Carole carries off the pie and sets it on the counter.

Sam, Finn and Puck join Kurt and the Karofskys by the front door.

"Hey Mr. Karofsky, hey Dave," Finn greets, trying for casual and mostly succeeding.

Puck and Dave nod at each other. It's the most honest interaction that anyone has had since the Karofskys got there. A simple acknowledgement. Nothing strained.

Sam introduces himself to Mr. Karofsky and shakes his hand. Mr. Karofsky says, "You're the new quarterback?"

Sam's face splits into a huge grin. "Yeah, I'm the new quarterback."

"What—no—I'm the quarterback! You're not even on the team this year!"

"Hudson, chill," Puck says.

"Finn, you're just jealous of my swimmer's bod."

"Swimming?" Dave asks.

"Synchronized," Finn clarifies.

Dave fights back a laugh. "That's great, Sam."

Sam isn't amused, all the playful teasing leaving his face. "Thanks."

Mr. Karofsky stares at each of the boys in turn, as if jocks are an abnormality that he's never been exposed to before.

Carole rushes out of the kitchen. "You can come in; you don't have to crowd around the door."

They begin to disperse but no one has any idea of where else they should go, so mostly they just spread out into a wider, more uncomfortable circle.

Burt comes down the stairs and time stops. Tension rises and Kurt can feel Dave slowly inching away from him, and they aren't even right next to each other.

Burt makes eye contact with Dave first. Dave has a deer-in-headlights look on his face. He swallows and Kurt swears that's the only movement besides Burt descending the stairs.

As if Burt is a predator stalking his prey.

Which is ridiculous, because Burt is completely harmless unless given a reason not to be.

Everyone's eyes are oscillating between Burt and Dave and Burt sees this, but it doesn't stop him from greeting Mr. Karofsky first, with a hearty handshake.

Dave is next. Burt doesn't shake his hand or make any movement like he's going to touch Dave. All he says is "hi," short and gruff.

"Hi," Dave repeats, hoarse and scared.

"So," Finn says into the silence, "when do we eat?"

"As soon as the salmon's done," Burt answers.

"I didn't buy any salmon," Carole says.

"We talked about salmon."

Carole shakes her head. "It wasn't on my list."

The exchange is a little too pre-planned.

Burt pulls out his wallet and collects a wad of cash. "Kurt, I need you boys to go to the store. Buy some fish."

"All of us?" Five teenagers buying salmon steaks seems excessive.

"Get yourselves some frozen yogurt while you're at it."

Kurt takes the money from his dad.

Burt fixes his eyes on Mr. Karofsky. It's clear to everyone except Mr. Karofsky that Burt is trying to get him alone.

Dave is closest to the front door and he reaches behind himself to open it.

"I can go with them—" Mr. Karofsky says, watching as Dave backs through the doorway.

"No," Burt says.

"It's just the store, Dad," Dave reassures him.

Mr. Karofsky doesn't seem comforted.

Kurt wants someone to throw an arm around Dave's shoulders and promise his dad that he'll take care of Dave while they're gone, but Kurt knows that it won't happen. Sam might've done it if he was on better terms with Dave, and Finn is also a possibility, but he's too busy looking confused about why purchasing salmon requires all five of them.

Kurt can't pull off something that casual with Dave, not after everything their fathers know. Not after an expulsion and meeting with the principal twice.

"You want a beer?" Burt asks Mr. Karofsky, slowly leading him into the kitchen. "The boys won't be gone long."

"Sure," he answers, sharing a fleeting glance with Dave while Dave disappears out the door.

The four other boys trail after him, with Puck bringing up the rear and shutting the door behind them.

"Dude, your dad is like, really over protective," Finn says to Dave while they crowd around Kurt's Navigator, parked in the driveway.

"Can you blame him?" Sam asks darkly.

"I guess not," Finn mutters. "Shotgun," he says, though no one else makes a move for it.

Kurt exchanges a look with Puck, who has remained silent the entire time. "What?" Puck bites out. "Fuck if I know anything about dads."

"Sorry," Kurt says, but his apology means nothing. He can't even say for certain what he's apologizing for. If it's for looking at Puck wrong or for Puck not having a father. Either way, Puck ignores it.

Dave chooses the seat behind the driver, behind Kurt. Before he yanks open his door he says to Kurt, "Do you get your lack of subtlety from your dad's side of the family?" then climbs in the car.

Dave takes in the indignation on Kurt's face and adds, "It couldn't've been any more obvious that your dad only wanted to talk to my dad and was looking for the quickest way to get us out of the house."

"You know, some people deal with discomfort in ways that don't involve insulting others," Kurt replies as he starts the engine.

"Yeah, and some people deal without using sarcasm as a defense mechanism." Dave leans against the window, away from Sam in the seat next to him.

Kurt glares at Dave through the rearview mirror but Dave doesn't look up.

"This is going to be a great trip," Sam says, flat, while Finn and Puck turn to stare at him.

Kurt tunes the radio to a miscellaneous station, because he can sense that the car ride is either going to be silent or filled with biting remarks and he can't take either one.

A generic country song starts up and if the situation had been any less disheartening, he's sure he'd get teased for it. Unfortunately, everyone gets the drift that Kurt's only playing the radio so there's some kind of noise that isn't arguing, so no one comments on it.

The trip to the store is short, but everyone crawls out of the car like they can hardly wait to be released from their prison cell.

"I thought we were getting frozen yogurt? Shouldn't we do that before buying fish?" Finn asks Kurt.

"I don't know what's going on," Kurt answers honestly. "I have no idea how much salmon you need to feed eight people."

Dave shrugs. "A couple pounds?"

"I'll call and ask." Kurt takes his iPhone out of his pocket and calls up his dad.

Burt is annoyed when he answers. "What?"

"You didn't tell me how much salmon to get."

"Enough for all of us. I don't know, Kurt."

"I don't know how much that is."

Through his phone he can hear the scrape of a chair against the floor in their kitchen. His dad mumbles something to presumably Mr. Karofsky or Carole, but Kurt doesn't catch what he says.

He hears faint footsteps of his dad walking away.

"I don't care how much salmon you get. The man's a mess. I need you to stall."

Kurt's eyes automatically flick to Dave and Dave understands immediately what's going on without Kurt having to say a word.

"Kurt?" his dad asks him, breaking the silence.

Kurt can only focus on _the man's a mess_. He has no words for anything else.

Dave sighs and plucks the phone out of Kurt's hand.

"How much time to you need?" It's the same exhausted voice that Dave uses when he's talking to his own dad. Like he's trying so hard to be patient but he doesn't have anything left. Instead, he's empty.

Dave says, "Yeah, I understand," to whatever it is that Burt told him. "Thanks, Mr. Hummel." Dave hesitates before ending the call. Kurt can tell that there's more Dave had wanted to say beyond a simple "thanks," but Finn and Sam are both watching Dave.

Puck is somewhere. On the other side of the car, leaning against it and scowling at the pavement.

Kurt accepts his phone from Dave. "He thinks we should be able to come back within an hour."

"An hour?" Finn cries, searching for support from Sam.

"An hour sounds pretty reasonable to me," Sam counters.

Kurt wants to hug Dave but he doesn't think it would go over well. Not when Kurt's friends are watching them and especially not when they're in public. Still, Dave looks like he could use some reassurance.

There are reminders every now and then that the Dave who bullied Kurt and the Dave who tried to kill himself are the same person. Usually it's in Dave's temper. It's the pull of his eyebrows and the flash of anger in his hazel eyes, the downward pull of his lips. Then there's this new Dave, the one who's vulnerable and alone. He's lost the will power to hide himself 24/7 and everyone knows his business now anyway, so what's the point in forcing yourself to hide again?

Hiding can't erase the truth.

But still, _an hour_. What is taking an hour? Does that mean that Mr. Karofsky doesn't support his gay son and needs persuasion?

"So are we getting frozen yogurt?" Finn asks.

"No, Finn," Kurt says. "Go buy some chips if you're hungry."

Finn heads for the store.

Dave still looks withdrawn and sad, without an escape route except into the store, where it's more crowded.

"Sam," Dave calls out to him, to stop him from following Finn into the store. "I'm sorry I punched you that one time."

Sam looks at him curiously. "I'm not sorry for punching you back," he replies, without any malice.

"Don't expect you to be."

Sam looks genuinely surprised. He nods at Dave. "Forget about it then." He turns to head for the store.

"No," Dave says.

Sam stops. "What?"

"I don't forget about the shit I do to people."

"OK, then don't forget. But it's over."

The moroseness doesn't lift from Dave's face, so Sam adds, "_You gotta put your past behind you_," in a very passable Nathan Lane impression.

Dave smirks. "Kurt tried to do that one. It was awful."

Sam smiles. "Kurt's not very good at impressions."

"Hey!" Kurt interrupts.

Sam ignores him and keeps talking to Dave. "He can make his voice go really deep, though. Make him do it sometime. It's eerie."

Dave raises his eyebrows in intrigue.

"I'm right here," Kurt tries a second time.

"I don't think any of us forgot," Dave tells him.

Sam gives Kurt a friendly slap on the back and takes off for the store.

"You gonna go buy fish or not?" Dave asks Kurt.

"I guess I may as well go look. We've got another half an hour to kill here before heading back." Kurt begins his trek through the parking lot and pauses to see if Dave is following him. He's not. Dave lingers around the car just like Puck.

"I'm gonna wait here," Dave says unnecessarily.

Two teenage boys hanging around a reasonably new SUV makes Kurt a little uneasy, not because he's expecting anything bad to happen while he's gone, but because it looks a little suspicious.

He doesn't push it, though.

"OK, well, call if you need anything, or come find me inside."

"Thanks Fancy, but I think we'll manage." Dave snickers.

"You're so irritating David Karofsky, you know that?"

"No. Why don't you remind me?"

From the other side of the car, Puck groans. "Could the two of you flirt any more?"

Their banter comes to an abrupt halt. Flirt? Who said anything about flirting?

The residual amusement slides off of Dave's face. "Go, Kurt."

"I wasn't trying to—"

"Go buy the fucking salmon."

"OK."

"Good. Get out of here."

"Fine," Kurt throws over his shoulder as he huffs angrily and heads toward the store. "Thanks, Puck," he says scathingly before he's away from the car completely.

Kurt hears Dave yell, "The fuck is your problem?" at Puck, then he's out of earshot.

* * *

Kurt prices various cuts of prepackaged salmon and compares it to the salmon in the deli case.

He's partially idling because he's still got some time before he has to get back to his house and partially just being picky. He wants to make sure he gets his money's worth.

The twenty-something year old girl working the deli counter asks him three times if there's something she can help him find. He tells her repeatedly that he's just browsing, but thank you, and she grows more impatient each time he says it.

Finally she leaves him alone and once he's decided that he's wasted enough time and he should probably be on his way, he has to call out to her twice before she weighs out the salmon for him.

He passes Finn and Sam in the candy aisle. They're comparing silly candy bar names and laughing to each other.

"I'm going to the car. Meet me outside," he tells them in passing.

After purchasing his salmon from another lackluster employee, he's out the door and headed back to his car, where he will no doubt find Dave and Puck at each other's throats.

Kurt finds them talking quietly on the side of his car that faces away from the store front, with their backs to Kurt. They don't notice him coming immediately and Kurt catches a snippet of whispered conversation.

"Can you retake it?" Dave asks.

"Bitch would never give me a second chance."

"So that's it then? One test and you flunk out of school?"

"No." Puck's voice is bitter. "I've been flunking out of school my entire fucking life."

"And now you're becoming what everyone always expected you to become. A high school drop out." Dave sounds impossibly sad.

"Hey, fuck you, asshole," Puck says, turning angry.

Dave doesn't notice. He keeps talking in that same tone of voice. "When you follow people's expectation, it's like no one is ever surprised." Kurt sees a shadow of Puck bowing his head. Listening. Maybe caught off guard. "I got expelled from school and my parents looked at me like they were disappointed with themselves for hoping that I would be better than that."

"I told my mom when I knocked up Quinn. She said she was just glad it didn't happen sooner."

"Fucking expectations. And fucking parents. If you know this shit is going to happen, fucking do something about it!"

"No one gives a shit if you fuck up your life."

Dave lets the gravity of that statement sink in. Then—"I know you're there, Kurt."

Kurt jumps. Regains composure and adopts a brisk walk like he was still walking back from the store. In the distance he hears someone swinging a plastic bag and some inane chatter about baseball. Finn and Sam.

"I didn't know what type of salmon to get, so I hope Sockeye is OK—" he starts saying, praying that if he picks up conversation immediately, they won't say anything about him eavesdropping.

"We know you were listening. You could fucking acknowledge it," Dave says.

Finn and Sam are nearly to the car. Kurt lowers his voice and says quickly, "I won't tell anyone, Puck."

Puck shrugs like there's not much point in keeping it secret. Still, Kurt doesn't break promises. Not when they mean something.

Finn loudly opens a bag of chips and pops one in his mouth. He offers the bag to Sam, who turns them down.

"Do you need to let your dad know that we're coming back?" Dave asks Kurt.

Calling before they left the store hadn't occurred to him.

Dave says, "You should probably call."

"Yeah, OK." Kurt gets out his phone and calls his dad a second time.

Carole answers the phone this time. "Are you on your way back?" she asks, forgoing a proper "hello."

"Yeah, is that OK?"

She's silent.

"Carole? Can we come back now?"

"That should be fine," she finally responds, but it doesn't sound completely fine. "I'll let them know."

She hangs up.

That was weird. Whatever is going on at the house, it must not be going very well.

"We're going back," Kurt informs everyone.

Dave stands by the front passenger door, waiting patiently for Kurt to unlock his door, headless of Finn's attempt to call shotgun.

Everyone piles into the car and Finn says, "Dude, I called it," when Dave takes the front seat anyway. Dave scowls and doesn't reply.

"No fighting or I'll play the country music again," Kurt promises.

"I like country music," Sam says.

"Then listen to it on your own time," Dave answers.

The rest of the trip is silent.

Mr. Karofsky is nowhere to be found when the boys enter the house. Dave looks around anxiously like he's expecting his dad to come running out to greet him at any second.

"He's in the bathroom," Burt tells Dave.

"How did it go?" Dave asks.

"It's not my job to be a parent to both of you," Burt answers, then goes to help Carole in the kitchen.

Kurt cringes at Dave.

"That's a good look for you. Keep making that face. Maybe it'll stick."

Kurt scoffs and heads to the kitchen to deposit his salmon. In the background he hears Finn say, "Xbox?"

The jocks distribute controllers and arrange themselves around the living room.

Mr. Karofsky emerges from the bathroom. His eyes are bloodshot and he looks more drained than he did when he first got there. He peeks into the living room, sees Dave sitting at the couch with Puck, and visibly exhales.

Kurt wonders if it's like that every time Dave leaves the house.

* * *

Dinner is quiet and segregated, with the adults at one end of the table and the teenagers at the other. Burt talks a lot about D.C. and Mr. Karofsky tells him that he voted for him.

Dave doesn't talk to Kurt at all, or even glance his way. He peers nervously over at Burt every now and then.

Sam tries to engage Puck in a conversation about guitars and some song with an awesome guitar solo that they should perform at nationals. Puck is nonresponsive.

To Kurt's immense surprise, Dave admits to his mom forcing him to take a couple years of piano lessons when he was younger.

"Will you play something? After dinner?" Kurt asks, getting excited.

The adults stop their conversation.

Burt stares at Dave.

Dave hunches down in his seat. "I was like, ten. I've forgotten most of it."

Conversation is stilted after that.

Kurt practically leaps at the opportunity to start clearing the table.

Dave moves to help him and Kurt sure that part of his willingness to help is so that he can get away from Burt.

Kurt whispers to Dave when they're setting dishes by the kitchen sink, "It's almost over."

"I'd like it to be over _now_," Dave whispers back.

The doorbell rings.

"That's Santana," Finn says from the dining room, running to get the door.

All Kurt needs to see is the set of Dave's shoulders in order for him to know that this is going to be very, very bad.


	14. Lesbian

AN: I'm running out of ways to express my gratitude for all of your wonderful, uplifting reviews.

* * *

Chapter 14—Lesbian

Dave slams his stack of dishes on the counter, not nearly hard enough to break them, but enough to make Kurt jump. "What is she doing here?' Dave asks angrily in what Kurt imagines is the quietest voice he can manage.

"I don't know," Kurt answers, wishing he has something more comforting to say. He's furious at Finn, naturally, but Finn is a few rooms away and Dave doesn't need to feel Kurt's wrath.

Dave's got enough going on without Kurt's emotions getting mixed up in everything.

The front door opens. "Hey Santana," they hear Finn greet her. "I just have to run up to my room to get my textbook."

"Thanks, Frankenteen."

The door closes behind her.

She's inside the house.

"Kurt," Dave whispers, "if she talks to me, I don't know what I'll do." Dave's initial anger is only a cover for the anxiety he must feel at being so close to someone who abandoned him.

"Are you worried that you're going to start yelling at her?"

"Or something." Dave swallows and Kurt watches his Adam's apple bob furiously.

"Or what? You're not going to hit her, are you? Because you know how I feel about violence."

"Jesus Christ. I'm not going to hit her." Dave takes a few deep breaths in an obvious attempt to steady himself.

"I'll go distract her, OK?"

Dave leans forward on the counter and nods his consent. And also, his thanks.

The adults, Sam and Puck are moving to greet Santana. Kurt doesn't think his dad has ever met her, though he's pretty sure that even if it hadn't been for the ad, Burt would know Santana by her reputation with the Glee club. Carole, it sounds like, has met Santana before, and greets her in a relatively friendly manner.

"I left my history book in my locker yesterday and Finn was kind enough to let me borrow his so that I could finish the reading," she tells Puck and Sam.

Santana gives Kurt a quick, deceptive smile that only makes him angrier as he comes into view.

The adults seat themselves around the living room. Mr. Karofsky sits still, tense. "It's good to see you again, Santana," he says, forcing the words like he feels obligated to say them.

It's unclear how much Mr. Karofsky knows about Santana. From Kurt's conversation with Dave earlier in the week, it's entirely possible that Mr. Karofsky doesn't know that Santana is a lesbian and therefore wouldn't have pieced together that Dave and Santana were using each other as a cover up. Or more accurately, Santana was using Dave. Mr. Karofsky seems to have gotten some kind of hint that Dave and Santana broke up, though it's impossible to judge what he thinks the details of that break up are.

Kurt feels nauseous from Santana's sugary-sweet routine, which he's certain she is only putting on for the sake of the adults.

"I'm glad to see how you're holding up, Mr. Karofsky, after everything with Dave. I wanted to go see him in the hospital, but given our history, I wasn't sure it would be appropriate." What a gratuitous amount of bullshit.

There's a crash in the kitchen, but it's a metallic clang against the floor that doesn't sound like permanent damage. Thankfully.

Where is Finn? What's taking him so long to find his book?

"Is Dave here?" Santana asks pleasantly.

Puck crosses his arms and Sam's eyes narrow. With Santana, there is always an ulterior motive.

"He's in the kitchen," Carole speaks up, hesitant, when no one else is willing to give Dave's location away (although it can't be much of a surprise, considering the crash earlier).

"Thanks Mrs. Hudson. Or is it Mrs. Hummel, now?"

The ends of Carole's mouth perk up in some artificial semblance of a smile. "Either one is fine." If Carole is maintaining the formality of a last name with Santana, then Carole must like Santana even less than Kurt had originally imagined.

Santana smiles at Carole and excuses herself. She rounds on Kurt, and with her back turned, finally shoots him the look of disdain that she had been harboring when Kurt sidesteps her path to the kitchen.

Everyone's eyes are on them. There's no good, simple explanation for why Kurt is blocking her and she capitalizes on that.

She cocks her head and smiles that same small smile.

Kurt slowly steps aside, but Santana isn't getting away that easily. He follows her into the kitchen.

Dave is facing the doorway, expecting her entrance. His eyes are hard and narrow, his hands clenched at his sides. There is a thin line of moisture in the bottom of both of Dave's eyes.

Kurt shoots him an apologetic look for failing to keep Santana away, but Dave only has eyes for Santana.

Santana turns her head just enough that Kurt can be sure she's talking to him, without even granting him the common courtesy of looking him directly in the eye. "Word on the street is that you dumped Hair-gel Mc-high-waters right on his obnoxiously round ass. And unless you want me telling him about the company that you are currently keeping and perhaps _elaborating_ on what I think is going on between the two of you, then you'd best scram, Helium. That is, if you have any regard for Blaine's feelings what-so-ever."

Dave's expression hardly changes, but there is a slight widening of his eyes.

Leave it to Santana to threaten to tell Blaine all about how Kurt had been cheating on him with Dave. Even though it's a lie, Kurt is sure that Blaine would believe her.

Kurt studies the obvious anger on Dave's face, but what draws him in that most are those two slips of tears.

"You wouldn't dare tell Blaine anything," he says, though he knows that she would.

"Wouldn't I?" she says mildly, turning the slightest bit more to face him, crossing her arms.

"If you make up a story about how I cheated on Blaine, or whatever it is you're threatening to tell him, then I will explain to Brittany exactly how you _tricked_ her into cheating on Artie."

She purses her lips and finally addresses Dave, not gracing Kurt with a reply. "You could have called me," she accuses Dave.

Dave snorts. A humorless puff of air that is halfway to a sob. "And say what?"

She scoffs, aggression coloring her features. She lowers her voice. "I was fucking worried."

"Oh, you were worried? I think that's the most precious thing I've heard all day."

"Look Meathead, you've got a problem, you better use that number in your phone."

"I don't need your help." If Kurt remembers correctly, it's the same thing that Santana had said to Dave, right before she hung up on him the last time they spoke.

"Like hell you don't."

"Even if I did," Dave starts, fists getting tighter while his jaw clenches and he struggles to keep his voice steady, "you're the last person I would ever call."

Santana hesitates, acting otherwise unaffected. Kurt wants the words to bother her. He wants them to get under her skin and claw at her insides. He hopes that they will make her bleed.

"Santana, maybe you should consider the way you treat people before automatically assuming that everyone is better off searching for your sympathies."

"This is _so_ not your business," she says to Kurt. "Dave, can't you tell your twink to back off and let the grownups can talk?"

"I could do that. Or I could just tell you to fuck off instead."

"I'm trying to be helpful here. Aunty Tana doesn't lend an ear to just anyone."

"Fuck you and your ear," Dave says. "Fuck both of your ears."

"Fuck my _ears_? Davey, we need to work on your witticisms, if that's the best you can come up with."

Santana is so lofty, so cool and detached from everything. It's terribly grating on Dave's poor self-control. He looks about ready to strangle her or burst into tears, neither of which would be good for Dave or Santana. The last thing that Dave needs is something for Santana to blackmail him with. And wouldn't a story of her making him cry like a little girl be just perfect?

Kurt considers running up to his room to get his history book so he can get Santana out of the house, but it means leaving Dave alone with her.

"You fucking condescending bitch," Dave says, and maybe Dave has a type. He's called Kurt both "condescending" and "a bitch" before, but from the sounds of it, Kurt has enough redeemable characteristics to make up for it, whereas that's pretty much all Santana has going for her.

"And you're a douchebag," Santana counters, like it furthers her point about Dave needing to talk to her. It was true once, Dave was indeed the douchiest of douchebags, but it was never who he wanted to be. Using that as an argument for building a relationship between Dave and Santana—well, Kurt has a split second to process the inevitable consequences of that before Dave inhales.

"You heartless bitch," he spits out, his voice rising. "I don't know if this is residual guilt from when you blackmailed me into being your boyfriend, or if you're finally starting to realize what a horrible person you actually are and are trying to make up for it in the only way you know how, but I will never come to you with my problems. We don't have anything in common."

"So I can't empathize? I'm trying to help you here," she says, offended.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but unlike you, I've never had a sympathetic girlfriend to run to when things get difficult. How is Brittany, by the way? I bet she'd love a refresher on what, exactly, she's dating."

Kurt feels like a trapped spectator, forced to sit in the audience at a terrible play where the actors are seconds away from slaughtering each other.

Santana's eyebrows rise. She juts out her chin. Her movements are jerky, harsh. "And what's that?" she challenges.

"A manipulative dyke," Dave growls, his lips curling.

There's a ringing silence that follows that declaration. Kurt is aware for the first time that there was some minimal amount of background chatter going on in the living room, and it has come to a sudden, screeching halt.

His rage at Santana drains out in record time and he is filled to the brim with a dread that freezes him.

From the living room, there is the telltale creak of the couch as someone stands, followed by heavy, measured footsteps.

Dave immediately registers what he's said, and the company in which he's said it. The rage drops off his face and falls out of his eyes. His skin pales.

For someone who usually has such subtle alterations of facial features, Dave goes from furious to petrified in the blink of an eye.

Santana gives Dave a look that says, "You're in for it now," then has the decency to look slightly intimidated.

"I'm really hoping I heard that incorrectly," Burt says from the doorway, but it's clear from the hardness in his voice and the way he draws himself up to his full height, that he didn't miss a syllable.

"I—I wasn't—she—" Dave stutters.

Burt takes his time walking to Dave. It could be a few seconds, a couple minutes, an hour. Or it could be eternity.

Dave doesn't move the entire time.

"That kind of discriminatory language is not tolerated in this house. I don't care who it's directed at, if it's my family or friends that we let inside, that vocabulary has absolutely no place under my roof. Do I make myself clear?"

Dave nods clumsily. "Crystal," he whispers.

"It took a lot for me to be willing to let you in my house, after everything that happened between you and Kurt last year. Don't think I've forgotten any of that."

"I didn't," Dave promises.

"Good." Burt stares him down. It's amazing how much Dave shrinks under Burt's scrutiny.

Finn chooses that moment to burst into the kitchen, textbook in hand.

"Hey, Santana, I got it. Would you believe I lost it in my backpack—" Finn scans the room from left to right and shuts up immediately.

Santana is smirking against the counter and Burt has Dave locked in a death glare. Kurt looks on, completely helpless.

"I thought I heard yelling, but—what's going on?" Finn asks.

The spell is broken.

"Dad, it wasn't David's fault, really. Santana provoked him," Kurt pleads.

Burt keeps his eyes planted on Dave's fearful face. "Get out," he says.

Dave nods, completely heartbroken, one hundred percent unsurprised.

"Dad—"

"No," Burt says when Dave steps back, ready to vacate the area. "Not you." Burt finally moves away from Dave, to Santana. Finn stands stupidly next to her, his arm partially stretched out to hand her the book.

"Take your book, and get out of my house," Burt says to Santana.

"Me? What did I do wrong? He's the one who—" She points to Dave.

"You're perpetuating an already bad situation and I want you out," he repeats, leaving no room for argument. When Santana doesn't move immediately, he grabs the book from Finn and thrusts it in her arms.

She catches it, incredulous, but leaves the kitchen anyway with a mumbled, "Thanks, Finn."

Burt watches her go. Once she's out of sight, he tells Finn, "Puck goes home."

Finn nods.

"You and Sam go upstairs."

Finn has on his signature look of confusion, but he nods again. He moves to say bye to Puck and collect Sam.

Burt signals with his eyes that Kurt and Dave had better follow him, and they're back in the living room, waiting for the front door to close behind Puck.

"Sit," Burt orders, taking his seat next to Carole on the loveseat.

Mr. Karofsky is seated uncomfortable in the armchair to their left. That leaves only the couch for Kurt and Dave.

Kurt waits for Dave to sit first. Dave sits somewhere near the middle of the couch, slightly closer to the side opposite the adults. Kurt squeezes into the smaller space beside Dave, heedless of what their parents might think of them sitting so close together.

Dave is shaking and could use the support.

Once Kurt is seated, Dave exchanges a look with him, picks himself up, and scoots to the end of the couch. It's a lot closer to the adults, but it's farther away from Kurt, which must be a priority.

Kurt tries not to take offense to it. Reminds himself that if Dave is in trouble with Burt, not looking overly chummy with his son is probably to Dave's benefit.

Burt starts with Mr. Karofsky. "You sat here and let me lecture your son without even blinking an eye."

Mr. Karofsky is speechless. What argument is there for him to make? It's exactly what happened.

"That language," Burt continues, "Comes from somewhere. Prior to this I believed that it was a toxic school environment that was leading to the bad behavior, but after what you've told me, and the few details that Kurt has told me, I am disinclined to believe that. I'm not saying that that isn't part of it, but it seems like it's coming from his home life also."

"Susie and I would never talk like that."

Dave chuckles sadly. "That's called denial, Dad."

"When have I ever used that kind of language around you?"

"You don't have to. All you have to do is sit back and let mom do it for you." Dave wrings his hands in his lap, still shaking, but less than when he first sat down. He avoids making eye contact with anyone.

"I can't even begin to understand the amount of emotional trauma that comes with having to resuscitate your son and wait for the ambulance that determines whether he lives or dies," Burt says. Dave makes a pained noise deep in his throat and closes his eyes. "But he's _still here_ and you need to acknowledge that. And allowing him to continue to make homophobic comments, which I can only see as a form of verbal masochism, is not the way to be supportive."

Burt pauses to see if Mr. Karofsky will respond. Mr. Karofsky stares down at his lap, eerily still. It doesn't look like he can take much more.

"That's enough," Carole says softly. "You've made your point."

Burt whips around to stare at her, like he hasn't even begun to make his point.

She gives him a watery smile and squeezes his hand.

Burt relents.

"It's time to say good bye," Carole says.

Dave rises from the couch, trembling. "Thanks," he says shortly to Burt, trying to muster up some kind of smile and giving up quickly.

Dave's gratitude is not followed by a customary "you're welcome," but Kurt thinks that it's as well received as can be hoped for. Burt blinks at Dave, a neutral expression on his face. That alone is something.

Mr. Karofsky has a hollow, disconnected look about his eyes. He searches blindly for his jacket before locating it on the coat rack by the front door. He grabs up his coat like it's his last form of defense.

Kurt hugs Dave. He can't _not_ hug Dave, not after everything with Santana and that awful, one-side conversation with their fathers.

Dave returns the hug for longer than Kurt would have expected, considering Carole and his dad are both watching them. Dave squeezes his eyes shut and shudders around Kurt's thin frame. When Dave comes back to himself, he pulls away abruptly and mumbles "sorry," like he had just done something obscene.

Kurt has a response for that, but he has to save it for a text message. It's too heartfelt for him to say in front of his parents.

Carole meets Kurt's eyes and he sees understanding. Dave's making himself pretty clear, with the gratified look that he shoots Kurt, despite the cloud of sadness that follows him.

Carole stands from the loveseat and hugs Dave as well. Where Kurt and Dave's hug was trembling, this one is crushing. All it takes is an extra squeeze from Carole and Dave pulls her in close, resting his head on her should, holding his breath.

"You were always such a sweet little boy," Carole says soothingly. She doesn't offer anything more than that. She allows Dave to lean on her, and she keeps her arms around him. For now, it's enough.

Kurt lets them have their moment.

Mr. Karofsky hangs back awkwardly by the front door, coat on. Kurt approaches him and waits a second to see if Mr. Karofsky will say anything about Kurt standing silently in front of him. He doesn't.

"Don't make me regret this," Kurt warns, before he wraps his arms around Mr. Karofsky, hard and fast. There's a very tense, almost vibration that Kurt feels when he touches Mr. Karofsky. He smells strongly of aftershave and less like mothballs.

Kurt releases him. He glares at Mr. Karofsky afterwards to show that while Kurt empathizes with what he's going through, his behavior is not acceptable in the long-term.

Mr. Karofsky's mouth opens slightly in shock, then he gathers himself and closes it.

Dave has finished accepting support from Carole and opens the door behind his dad. He smiles at Kurt, shy and small and maybe, just a little bit, normal.

Kurt returns the smile and waves good bye.

The door closes.

"I was not finished talking to him," is the first thing Burt says when Carole comes back over to him.

"I know you weren't. But the man couldn't take anymore."

"That's not how you be a parent," Burt says, his eyes following the Karofskys' car as it drives off.

Carole doesn't answer but she doesn't have to. She took Quinn in without hesitation after her parents threw her out. Carole doesn't need to be reminded of how good parenting should work.

Kurt finally texts Dave the message that he had wanted to say but was too personal for his parents to hear. It says, _Don't ever be sorry. Not anymore._

He thanks his dad and Carole for being the best parents on the planet, and although they both nod at him, he can't be entirely sure that they've heard him. They are both staring down the street in the wake of the Karofskys' car.

Kurt climbs the stairs to his bedroom, feeling the shivering hugs from Dave and his father quaking in his body, his soul.


	15. Clothes

Chapter 15— Clothes

Finn has the decency of waiting until Sunday morning to start eating Dave's pie. Kurt manages to procure a small sliver before Sam gets to the pie also, and it's only a matter of time before Sam and Finn demolish it.

It's crumbly and tart, with thick cherry juice and plump red cherries.

Kurt texts Dave, _Finn and Sam ate your entire pie. Hope you don't mind. I stole a couple bites. It's delicious._

Dave writes him, _Moms is better_.

Kurt rolls his eyes. _Well I don't know what hers tastes like, but yours was wonderful._

_OK, _Dave texts back. (Sarcastically, Kurt is fairly sure.)

_I'm not going to argue with you about the pie that you obviously didn't try. I'm also not going to argue with you about the fact that you really need to learn how to take a compliment._

Another text comes in, and it's the start of what's sure to become a texting war. _Then I won't argue with you about your passive aggressive texting bullshit_

_Good,_ Kurt writes. _By the way, I still have your jacket. How is everything?_ He sends his message, then quickly sends a second one. _How's your dad?_

Dave doesn't reply immediately.

Eventually Kurt gets a response. It says, _Do you mind if I come get it? I want to get out of here._ Kurt assumes that "here" is Dave's house.

Kurt tells him that he's welcome to come over any time, and he flops down on his bed.

Burt is going to be flying out soon. Kurt only has a few more hours with him before he has to leave for the airport. In the beginning, Kurt went to the airport with his dad, because he was so thrilled at the prospect of his dad making a difference in congress. After a few weeks though, the novelty wore off and a slight feeling of abandonment set in. He knew that it wasn't his dad's fault, and that his dad wasn't actually abandoning him, but from that point on it just became easier to stop seeing his dad off.

Then his dad had that conversation with him about how the two of them should stop dancing around the fact that Kurt is practically out of the house and they have limited time together already without the two of them avoiding each other.

He feels incredibly guilty for the excuse that he plans to make as to why he can't ride with his dad to the airport.

His phone rings, a jingle from Madonna's _Four Minutes_. Mercedes's ringtone.

He rubs at his too-dry eyes. He's overcome with a deep-set sadness, caught up in thinking about how much more difficult his relationship with his father is going to get in the next couple months. Their relationship is complicated enough as it is, with the foundation for their love built on their different interests and their mutual respect for one another. Being different is fine when they're still under the same roof, but it's hard to entertain the idea that they will be able to keep in touch easily once they're away from each other.

It's not like they can relate to each other much as it is, and that's while they're living together.

Mercedes's ringtone starts up again just as it is dying out. Whatever she wants, it must be important.

Kurt sighs. The longer he spends focusing on things that he can't change, the worse he's going to feel all day.

He answers his phone with a weary, "Hello?"

"You've got some explaining to do," Mercedes greets him.

"About what?" he asks, only three words in and already exhausted.

"Rachel texted me something about Blaine telling her that you guys broke up and she wanted to call you herself, but she's too busy yelling at Finn right now, so I've been stuck with the responsibility. Now spill. What the hell happened?"

This is not what he wanted, not at all. But if Santana already knew that he had broken up with Blaine (or whatever he had done,) then it only stands to reason that Mercedes and Rachel and everyone else on the planet (or at least in Glee) would know.

"We just drifted apart. I don't know."

"You _drifted apart_?"

Kurt shrugs, though she can't see him. "I would say that dating became too much work, but that's not even it."

"Then what was the problem?" God, she's nosey. Kurt loves her, he really, really does, but somehow talking to her about guys before either of them had a boyfriend, and talking to her about their relationships were two vastly different things. Maybe because they weren't speculating about how they would handle situations. They had real life experience to back up their opinions, and their ideas didn't always mesh.

"It's like, we got mad at each other all the time because neither of us _wanted_ to put in the effort."

"Honey, you're not making sense. What effort? You guys were perfect together."

"If I ignored parts of Blaine, and he ignored parts of me, then yes. Perfect. But I wanted him to be able to see all of me, and not just the parts of me that made up the person he wanted me to be. We weren't being fair to each other."

"I didn't realize you were that unhappy with him."

Kurt's throat tightens, and it really does sound like he's making his relationship off to be worse than it was. It feels like he's telling himself that his happiness with Blaine was a lie and that's not fair at all, because he has so many good memories with Blaine.

"I wasn't. I love him. Just maybe not as a boyfriend."

"If you're trying to play the let's-be-friends card, I don't think he's going to react well to that."

"I know."

"I was ready to yell at you, you know. Because I talked to Blaine, and at first he was furious but then he started crying and saying stuff like, 'He left his scarf here, I'll have to give it back to him,' and 'How long can I keep our prom picture up on my wall before it becomes completely pathetic'?"

A tear slips down Kurt's cheek. "I hadn't even realized," Kurt whispers. " We're going to have to have one of those moments where we exchange boxes with each other's things."

Mercedes makes a soothing, sympathetic sound, then says, "There's something else I need to talk to you about."

"Can we not talk about Blaine anymore?"

"It's not about Blaine. It's about Karofsky."

Kurt becomes immediately defensive. "What about him?" he challenges.

"Down, white boy. It's not bad. Rachel also told me that Karofsky has been over at your house a lot recently. And since when do I have to get all of your news from Rachel?" As of a while ago, Kurt acknowledges sadly.

"Yeah, he's been over a couple times."

"How is he?" Mercedes asks, surprisingly concerned.

"You really want to know?" Kurt asks, but it's somewhat of an unfair question, because he can tell from her tone of voice that she is genuinely worried.

She says yes, she really does want to know.

"I'm not really sure. He keeps things bottled up, and he's starting to talk to me about them, but I'm so _involved_ with so much of why he hates himself, that I don't know how much it really helps." Admitting that Dave hates himself feels like a small betrayal, but Kurt reasons that Mercedes is acting like she cares about Dave, which is more than Kurt can say about most people, and he figures that anyone who tries to take their own life must hate themselves to some degree.

"Some things are getting worse, but some of the things, I think, they might be good things, eventually." That feels like another small betrayal, because Kurt is thinking that Dave's mom leaving might be a good thing for Dave. He hates that he finds comfort in the fact that his friend's mom walked out on him.

"I prayed for him," Mercedes says. "I know you think that's stupid, or a waste of time, or whatever, but I had to do something. I still resented him, when I went to the hospital, but Kurt," she chokes, her voice wet, "I'd never seen someone look that lost and _miserable_—" Mercedes draws in a shaky breath. Seeing Dave in the hospital like that must've been incredibly difficult for her to process. She's always been an upbeat person, strong-willed like Kurt and with a loving family.

"I don't think it's stupid that you prayed for him. I only wish I thought it would help."

* * *

Dave shows up not too long after Kurt got off the phone with Mercedes. Kurt makes it to the door first, passing his dad in the kitchen, where he sits eating lunch, with a suitcase resting by his feet.

Kurt prepares a smile before he opens the door, hoping that it will seem more genuine if Dave doesn't have to see the effort Kurt puts into plastering it on his face.

"Hey, David," Kurt says enthusiastically when he opens the door.

"Whoa, what happened to you?" Dave replies, stepping into the house, eyes flicking over to Burt, but less fearfully than the day before.

"What? What do you mean, what happened to me?"

"You look, like, deranged."

Kurt's smile fades. He shuts the door hard behind Dave.

"Excuse me for being happy to see you."

"Is that what that face was?"

Kurt shoots him a warning look. "Your jacket's up in my room," he says, taking off with the expectation that Dave will follow. It's either that or hang out with Burt in the kitchen. No one else is around. "Door open, I know," Kurt adds when his dad's mouth opens.

Dave turns bright red at the unspoken reasoning behind the door to Kurt's _bedroom_ needing to be left open while they're both in there.

"A-actually," Dave stutters, still blushing, "I was going to wait here?"

Kurt frowns. Weird. "OK. I'll be right back."

Dave nods at him, and as Kurt starts climbing the stairs to the upper story, he sees Dave walking into the kitchen in his peripheral vision.

Dave freezes when he notices Kurt glancing at him. Dave glares at him pointedly, a clear indication that Kurt should continue on his way.

Which of course makes Kurt want to stay even more.

Dave waits impatiently for Kurt to continue up the stairs, which Kurt does, grudgingly.

Kurt hears Sam plucking out some guitar chords from inside his bedroom.

Kurt hurries to his room and grabs the coat, then sneaks down the hall to the edge of the stairs, where he won't be in their line of vision.

Dave is talking. "—wanted to say thank you, for yesterday."

"You said that last night," Burt says, but not in a rude way.

"I know I did, but it takes me a couple tries to say what I really want to say."

"Which is?" Burt prompts.

"That I would say I'm sorry for everything, but that doesn't even come close to— to what—" Dave cuts himself off, inhales deeply and starts again, with more resolve in his voice. "I can't really explain what happened to me when I was at McKinley, or why all of those things happened with Kurt. But I can tell you that I felt awful about them every second of everyday." Here's where the tears start to creep into Dave's voice. "And I can tell you that I kept wishing that I knew how to stop, or that someone would see through my bullshit and try to talk to me, but nothing ever really happened."

There's a rustling sound that could be Burt putting his sandwich back on his plate and wiping his face with his napkin.

Dave starts talking again, breathing forcefully like he's going to start crying at any second and he's trying so hard to stop it. "I was ignored all through elementary school. I mean, I was friends with Finn, but then Puck moved to town and he had this, like, cool bad-boy thing, even back then, so Finn stopped hanging out with me. And I learned that if people were afraid of me, at least they were paying attention."

Kurt thinks about sweet, shy little Dave, who wants so badly to have friends but keeps getting overlooked in favor of guys like Puck, who come from a broken home. He imagines Dave with his math book, doing homework at recess because no one will play with him. And somewhere between then and high school, innocent little Dave started growing muscles and learned that he could be intimidating.

And Dave was harder to ignore after that.

But it was no longer the quiet, kind Dave that people were seeing, because Dave was rejecting that whole side of himself.

Kurt claps a hand over his mouth to stifle any sounds that might escape him when he inevitably starts to cry.

Dave already has. "I know that's not— not really an apology, but…"

"Are you done?" Burt asks quietly.

Dave must nod or something, because he doesn't speak.

"And you realize that Kurt has been eavesdropping this entire time?"

"Yeah, I've noticed that he does that."

Clearly, Kurt's not as sneaky as he had thought.

"Good. I wanted to make sure you knew he was listening before I say what I'm going to say. Kurt, you may as well come down here."

Busted.

Kurt rises from his step and retreats down the stairs.

Dave is turned away from Burt and the doorway, rubbing his arm roughly across his face. He lowers his arm and looks over at Kurt. His eyelashes are damp.

Burt's expression is one of reserved sympathy.

"Dave, that is by far the most honest thing I've ever heard you say."

Granted, Burt has only interacted with Dave four times prior.

Dave bows his head and waits for more.

"So apology or not, don't dismiss what you just told me, because I can tell that took a lot of guts."

"OK," Dave says.

Kurt reaches out to put his hand on Dave's arm, but Dave jerks away from him.

Kurt lowers his hand.

"Look, kid," Burt says to Dave. "Obviously you feel terrible about what happened. I didn't believe it when Kurt went back to McKinley."

"I didn't want to admit it."

"I have respect for you telling me everything you did just now."

Dave's eyes widen and he stares at Burt in wonder. "What?"

"I can't say that I was a model teenager. And there are people who deserve apologies from me, for reasons that I'd rather not go into, that I have no way of delivering now. And I had opportunities back then."

Burt checks his watch. "I don't have time for a long, drawn-out conversation right now. I have to find Carole so I can leave for the airport."

Burt looks at Kurt while he stands from the table, and Kurt knows that he's asking if Kurt is going with them.

Kurt shakes his head, apologetically, and gestures at Dave, like that's an answer for not going.

Burt nods, expecting that.

"I will say this before I go," Burt says to Dave. "If you're waiting to apologize to everyone that you ever wronged, and for those people to accept your apologies before you begin to forgive yourself, then you will spend the rest of your life feeling guilty about things that you can't change. The most important thing for you is to forgive yourself. And as far as I can see, you've spent far too long beating yourself up over this. You've done nothing that can't be forgiven with time."

Dave blinks rapidly a few times. "Thank you, Mr. Hummel. Sir."

"That doesn't mean that I'm forgetting that it happened. And that certainly doesn't mean that I'll forgive it a second time."

"Of course. I mean, absolutely not. I understand. It will never happen again."

"It better not," Burt warns. "And Dave, you only get one life. Don't let other people ruin it for you just because you're gay. People are assholes and they don't always apologize or even have the decency of acknowledging it. So the fact that you are willing to apologize automatically puts you one step ahead of them."

Kurt practically jumps into his dad's arms, he's so happy and proud and bursting with love. He squeezes him extra hard and whispers, "You're so unbelievably great. I'll miss you so much."

"Only reason I'm so great is because I've got you." Burt releases Kurt and calls for Carole, who rushes in from outside.

She says hello to Dave, only mildly surprised to see him standing in her kitchen, and asks if Burt is ready to go.

He says he is.

"You better remember everything I told you, because I don't like having to repeat myself," he adds to Dave before he walks out of the kitchen.

"Yes, sir. I will. I don't necessarily believe all of it, but I'll…" Dave trails off when he sees the frustration on Burt's face. "I'll remember it," he mumbles feebly.

"I hate being called sir," is the last thing Burt says before he's out of the house.

Kurt's sure that the interaction he witnessed actually happened, because if it had been a dream, it definitely would have ended with the two men hugging. In reality, there's still no physical contact between the two of them.

That doesn't mean that progress is slow.

"See, dad's just a big softie once you get to know him." Kurt grins. "Like you." He runs his hand over the fine hairs on Dave's arm.

"What are you doing?" Dave asks. His throat sounds dry and his words rasp their way out.

Kurt immediately withdraws his hand. "Um, nothing." _Not hitting on you_, Kurt's brain supplies unhelpfully, because it really did sound like flirting. "Here's your coat. I ironed it for you—"

Dave snorts.

"I ironed it for you," Kurt repeats, more forcefully, ignoring Dave. "Not that you can tell now, because I crumpled it up."

"It's cool, I wouldn't have ironed it anyway." Dave takes his coat out of Kurt's hands.

"I don't understand why you _wouldn't_ iron your clothes."

"The things I never thought I'd hear a guy say."

"Remind me why I invite you over?"

"You didn't invite me. I came on my own." Dave shoots him a half smile and it dimples on of his cheeks.

"True," Kurt allows. "Why did you come, though? You said you wanted to get out of your house. Was your dad bothering you?"

"No, it wasn't that. He's been pretty quiet since last night. More than usual."

"So what's wrong?"

Dave squishes his jacket into a ball and wraps his hands around it before he answers. "He's waiting for my mom to come home, and she's not going to, so…" He shrugs. He doesn't even attempt to act nonchalant.

Kurt would've called him out on it anyway.

"David, I don't want you to think that just because your mom is, well, not the best, and your dad is having issues, that you aren't worth caring about."

"It's not just my parents, Kurt."

"Mercedes asked about you today. She wanted to know how you're doing. People do care, Dave."

"Not really," Dave mutters.

Kurt rubs a tear off of Dave's cheek. Dave didn't shave today. He has some slight stubble, enough to make Kurt think that Dave could grow a pretty thick beard if he wanted to. The short hairs are prickly against his thumb.

Blaine's face was always so soft. He shaved as close as he could get, so even by the end of the day any growth was hardly noticeable.

This is so much more masculine.

Kurt pulls his hand away.

"One of these days, I'm going to teach you why you're worth caring about."


	16. Chemistry

AN: I didn't edit this, so I'm sorry if there are more typos than usual. I do try to catch them, but usually I get so excited about posting that I'm not as thorough as I should be. This chapter feels really fragmented to me, so I apologize if it reads that way as well.

* * *

Chapter 16- Chemistry

Kurt's first class of the day on Monday is history. He had avoided going to his locker before class like he normally would. Depending on how angry Blaine is, or how angry he's pretending to be, he might've been waiting for Kurt at his locker. But if Blaine is sulking too much to even pretend to be angry, then Blaine is probably trying to avoid seeing Kurt as well.

Kurt doesn't like thinking that he's hiding from Blaine, but that is what he's doing. He's even planning on going to his locker before his next class, knowing that Blaine will have to run to class on the other side of school, and won't have time to try and chat during passing period.

He has no idea what he's supposed to say to make any of this better and he hates to watch people that he cares about suffer.

He gets a text. Unsurprisingly, it's from Dave. Most of his texts lately are from Dave (and when they're not from Dave, they're from Rachel, complaining about prom drama).

The message reads: _Chandler stopped by my locker this morning _

…And? Dave must think that that will mean something to Kurt, if he's telling him about it. Maybe there's a question buried in there somewhere.

Class is starting, so Kurt doesn't have time to dwell on it.

* * *

After history (a boring class period in which students who weren't Kurt unenthusiastically presented research projects on the French revolution) Kurt races to his locker. His next class isn't necessarily on the opposite side of school, but it's far enough away that he has to move quick in order to make it on time.

Blaine is standing in front of Kurt's locker.

Shit.

So much for avoidance tactics.

"I knew you'd be here," Blaine says softly when Kurt has no choice but to face him.

The halls are crowded, filled with slamming lockers and pounding footsteps, giggling cheerios clinging to their varsity boyfriends. Kurt and Blaine's relationship lasted long enough that no one pays much attention to them anymore, quickly growing tired of watching the only two out boys casually touch (but never kiss) outside of their classrooms. Actually, saying that no one pays attention to them is somewhat of an understatement. Mostly, people ignore them. Some out of disgust, some out of what they might consider to be respect, although Kurt still considers it to be a low level of discomfort with homosexuality.

Kurt bites his lip and tugs on the strap of his messenger bag. Blaine steps aside so that Kurt can access his locker, and Kurt is grateful for the few seconds that he is able to spend focusing on the tiny numbers around the combination lock.

He doesn't have to see Blaine that way.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Blaine asks.

Kurt slips a book back into its place in his locker and smoothes his hand down the cracked spine. His throat tightens and he swallows against it. It doesn't help.

He withdraws his hand and selects the book he had come to retrieve. Gentle closes his locker and pulls the book against his chest.

Finally, he looks at Blaine. One side of his bowtie is slightly larger than the other, there's a wrinkle down the front of his shirt, he's clean-shaven but Kurt can see a faint shadow of scruff, like the razor didn't cut as close as usual. These little, seemingly insignificant things cause him to blink rapidly and he's unable to keep the waver out of his voice when he says, "You're going to be late for class," because he's unable to say anything that actually matters.

"I don't care about class. Kurt, look at me."

Kurt, against his better judgment, makes eye contact. Blaine's eyes are over bright and shiny like melted honey. The heartbreak almost appears over-exaggerated, but so does everything with Blaine.

"Can you please just be honest with me? I know you so well. I mean, I knew that you would go to your locker after class instead of before like usual. And I know that you're avoiding telling me something because you're afraid of hurting my feelings. But Kurt, the damage is already done, so could you at least stop—perpetuating it?"

As far as Kurt can tell, three things are true. The first thing- Kurt and Blaine stifle each other. They're constantly at war with what they feel they need from the other one, whether Blaine is blind to it or not, and Kurt is always the one who caves. The second- Kurt needs time to figure himself out, to get reacquainted with the person he was before dating Blaine, because that person feels lost to him at times. He's trying to find his way back to himself. And finally, the third and most important one—Kurt loves Blaine, he really does. But he's not sure in what capacity. Maybe it's not the love he once wanted it to be.

"I'm figuring myself out, and," _you make that difficult,_ "I think I need to do it alone." He throws in, "I'm sorry," because he feels obligated, and more importantly, because it's true.

Blaine's eyes harden. His irises dim and Blaine is able to spit out, "That's it? That's your justification for breaking up with me after 14 months?" before the bell sounds, signaling the start of class.

It's better, with the bell. That way Blaine doesn't have to listen for Kurt's whispered "I love you."

Blaine marches off to class, posturing straightening as he forces everything down, seemingly unaffected, but Kurt knows better.

Kurt stands in the shadow of an open classroom door, still clutching his textbook against his heart.

* * *

Dave texts Kurt again as Kurt makes his way over to his lunch table with Mercedes and Tina. It says, _What the fuck now he's eating lunch with me_

Kurt rolls his eyes and pulls out his phone. He texts Chandler, _What are you doing?_ and Chandler writes back _What?_

Kurt doesn't have the will power to elaborate. He lets it be.

Mercedes and Tina spend most of lunch gossiping about prom, what songs they are going to sing, what their dresses look like, who's fighting with who, blah blah. Things that Kurt would normally take interest in, had his own plans for prom not fallen apart by him breaking up with Blaine. Apparently Rachel is threatening to avoid prom all together, even though she spent $200 on a dress, because Finn is campaigning for prom court with Quinn, a concept that is lost on Kurt, because clearly couples who run together don't necessarily get crowned together.

Mercedes is busy going over the details of the tiny straps on her indigo shoes when Kurt cuts in with, "Did you finally say yes to Sam?"

Mercedes stares at him. "What?"

"Sam. Are you going with him? Or are you going to keep stringing him along?"

"_Excuse_ me?" she asks.

Uh oh. He's hit a nerve. Too bad he's already on a roll and couldn't care less if he pisses her off in the process. "I know that he keeps coming up with more elaborate ways to ask you to go with him, and he's convinced himself that if he bothers you enough that you'll say yes, but it's hard to tell if you genuinely like him or not, because if you don't then you need to tell him that. You're a good person and good people should treat Sam with more respect."

Tina blinks at him. "Are you OK?"

"He broke up with Blaine," Mercedes says, like it explains his behavior, although the explanation is unnecessary, considering how fast news travels around their group. "My relationship is my business. Don't take out your frustrations on me just because you're off having a love affair with a linebacker."

Tina's eyes shift over to Puck.

"I'm not having—there's no love affair—Tina, _stop looking at Puck._ She's not talking about him."

"Dave Karofsky," Mercedes says, biting into her sandwich. "He asked Kurt out on Valentine's Day."

And that is why Kurt never told Mercedes about Dave kissing him. Because he loves her, but she can't keep her mouth shut to save her life.

"Oh, how's he doing?" Tina asks. "My cousin at Thurston says that Dave never came back. Is he at a different school? Or getting home schooled? You guys would be so cute together if he, you know, got everything under control. His anger problems and self-hatred. I know a great therapist. Helped me with my stutter. You know, mentally." She pauses to take a swig of her drink, before she's asking Kurt for "like, _all_ the details," of when Dave asked him out.

It's all Kurt can do to keep from banging his head on the table.

* * *

In Glee, everyone performs a song that they would tentatively like to sing at prom. Sam doesn't pick a chair by Mercedes like he normally would, but he does glance at her a few times, and when Kurt catches his eye, he shakes his head sadly. Sam stops looking after that.

Blaine sits with Rachel, which seems to suit her just fine. She whispers to Blaine and they both glare at Finn.

Kurt wants to snark "real mature," at them, but he opts not to because of the immaturity that that gesture would invoke in and of itself.

Everyone is acting so bizarrely.

To complicate things even more, he gets another text from Dave, and this one is less friendly. It reads, _The hell did you say to him Hummel_

Followed by, _Jesus he wont fucking shut up im going to lose my shit if I have to be alone with him_

_Don't you still have to tutor him?_ Kurt asks.

_Yeah thats the problem_

Kurt writes back, _I'm tutoring Sam tomorrow night for the SATs. Why don't you and Chandler come over? 7:00?_

_Fine but this better not be your idea of a fucked up double date because holy fuck_

Kurt stifles a laugh, trying and failing to block out the image of his _friend_ Sam's abs. _Wouldn't that be something_, Kurt thinks. Him and Sam, and Dave and Chandler.

"Kurt!" Mr. Shue barks. "Pay attention."

"Yeah, Kurt," Blaine mutters, almost inaudibly. _Almost_ being the key word.

He tucks his phone back in his pocket. Only another fifteen minutes to get through, but Rachel's going next. God help them is she doesn't take up the entire time and then some with some overwrought medley about the grave injustice that one Finn Hudson is doing to their relationship and untimely marriage by conspiring with his ex.

* * *

Sam doesn't protest when Kurt brings up last-minute on Tuesday night that Dave and Chandler are coming over to study with them. He verifies that Chandler is the guy who Blaine thought Kurt was cheating with, and he asks if Dave and Chandler are "a thing," although he calls Dave "Karofsky."

Kurt pointedly tells him "no, they're not," but it doesn't seem to make a difference to Sam either way.

Sam spreads his book and flashcards out over the kitchen table while Kurt goes to answer the door.

It's Chandler, by himself. Kurt's not sure why he expected Chandler and Dave to show up simultaneously, but oh well.

"Look at you," Chandler gushes, singsong as he analyzes Kurt's clothes, before pulling him in for a hug.

It's not that Kurt doesn't enjoy hugs. Quite the contrary. But he's fairly reserved and is generally uncomfortable with physical contact from people who he's not completely comfortable with, or when he hasn't initiated contact first.

He stiffens and awkwardly pats Chandler on the back.

Chandler chatters to him immediately and is instantly taken with Sam.

Kurt takes up a seat next to Sam, rightfully so as he's going to be tutoring him, and Chandler sits on the other side of Kurt, where he begins recounting his thoughts on the first time he heard the Book of Mormon soundtrack, recalling them track by track. He's onto track four when door shows up at the door.

After the doorbell rings, Chandler starts to sing "Hello, my name is elder Price," and he's not _terrible_, he's mostly on pitch, but nowhere near New Direction's standards. He's glad when he can get up from the table to answer the door, but slightly guilty about leaving Sam alone with Chandler.

Dave looks more like Karofsky when Kurt greets him.

"What's wrong?" Kurt asks, fearing the answer.

"I can hear him from _outside._ Seriously, what did you say to him?"

Kurt doesn't get the chance to explain, even if he wanted to, because Chandler bursts out of the kitchen with an enthusiastic, "Hey, Dave! Ready for some Chemistry?"

"Uh, sure," Dave says, unconvinced.

"Me too!" Chandler says, holding up his Chemistry textbook as exhibit A. He walks into the kitchen with it, and Dave reluctantly follows, murmuring to Kurt, "I know you had something to do with this, and if this is some kind of set up, I swear to God…"

Kurt pointedly ignores him and resumes his seat in between Sam and Chandler, which leaves the seat opposite him free for Dave.

Dave and Sam greet each other with a "hey dude" "hey man" and everything escalates from there.

Kurt and Sam are reviewing the SAT format, as outlined in Kurt's SAT prep book, when Chandler interrupts for the first time. "So, how do you all know each other?"

"Me and Dave were on the football team," Sam says, squinting at the test prep book.

"So how do you know Kurt?" Chandler asks, turning to Dave.

"School," Dave says, short.

Kurt speaks up fast, because he can see the tense line between Dave's eyebrows. "Hey, do you guys want anything to drink? Water? Lemonade?"

"No thank you." Chandler waves him off, continuing his questioning. "But _school_, that's so vague."

"I don't fucking know," Dave says, fingers tightening around his pencil. "Class or something."

Chandler's eyes widen and he leans away from Dave. "Grumpy," he says, scribbling on an old Chemistry test.

Dave is seconds away from snapping his pencil in half when Sam looks up from his book and says, "Learn to take a hint, dude. I don't think he wants to talk about it."

"I was just trying to make conversation," Chandler protests.

"Well, don't," Dave answers. "We're supposed to be studying. Did you forget to take your Adderall again today?"

Chandler doodles angrily on his test again, not responding.

"Now you're mad. Great," Dave says.

"I didn't agree to tutoring just so I could get talked down to."

It's like watching a train wreck. Kurt cringes at Sam and Sam tries to look busy with his flashcards.

Dave sets his pencil down. "Agree to tutoring?"

"Yes," Chandler agrees, then realizes what he said and attempts to backtrack. "And by 'agree' I mean, I didn't really have a choice, after all you don't choose to need a tutor, it just happens—"

"You said 'agree', like it was a compromise."

Chandler fidgets. "Um. The only thing that's being compromised is my grade, so."

"Chandler, why did you get paired with me?"

"Because you're good at chemistry and I am not. Clearly." He holds up his test, which proudly proclaims "68%" in large red writing.

"Other people are worse. I've helped grade papers. There's a reason why I got paired with you specifically."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Chandler says nervously, turning his paper so he can read the notes left for him by his teacher.

"Chandler."

He pushes up his glasses and exhales. "Most of this I found out later. But Mrs. Woods said that there was a new guy and that he needed to do some tutoring to help get back on track and that she wanted him to tutor me, if that was OK, and I said yes."

"And?" Dave prompts.

Chandler takes off his glasses and puts them back on. He adjusts his beanie. He makes the mistake of looking over at Kurt for help, which Dave notices.

Sam shuffles through his flashcards, but he stares at the table in front of him more often than he reads the words on the cards.

"I asked her yesterday morning, why me? Because I'd noticed that other people were doing a lot worse in the class and she came to me specifically about a tutor. I don't think she wanted to tell me, but I mentioned that I'd heard some things and I was concerned, and well…" Chandler's eyes flick over to Dave, who is watching him with curiosity, anger and sadness.

Chandler squeezes his eyes shut and speaks fast, like ripping off a band-aid. "She said that the McKinley guidance counselor had gotten in touch with the Thurston guidance counselor, who contacted North Lima, and since you're so good with science and since I'm out, that it might be a good idea for me to talk to you, but they didn't want to let either one of us know, because they didn't want it to affect the way we interacted. I guess they thought this way was more natural?"

"You 'heard some things'," Dave says, upset but fighting against it. He stares at Kurt.

"Going around school."

"Really? Because it sounds like you had more confirmation than that."

Chandler shakes his head.

Dave's still waiting for Kurt to answer.

He doesn't.

"On second thought, today's not a good day for tutoring after all. I have this _huge _project to do for English, and I've got lines to run for Midsummer Night's Dream—I'm playing Puck. Did I tell you that?" Chandler packs up his school supplies, to the protest of no one, and he quickly says his goodbyes, hugging Dave in the process.

Dave doesn't return the gesture.

Dave waits until Chandler is out the door before he says to Kurt, "So, Chandler 'heard some things.' I wonder what he heard?"

"David, it wasn't like that," Kurt pleads. "Chandler told me that there were rumors going around about his tutor and I didn't know that it was you, and based on my reaction when I found out it _was_ you, he kind of assumed that they were correct."

"Dude, word has already traveled to your new school? That's horrible," Sam says.

Dave slams his book shut. "I guess I should thank you," he says venomously. "Because now those will no longer be rumors, but the truth. At least with rumors there's some doubt. But with this… you think anyone wants to be friends with the suicidal guy?"

Kurt opens his mouth and closes it again when nothing comes out.

"So what, did you tell him to take pity on me? Is that why he was following me around all day?"

"No," Kurt whispers.

Dave scowls and crams his textbook and papers into his backpack, where everything is going to get crumpled up on the bottom.

"I know you're angry or whatever, and maybe this is stupid to bring up, I dunno, but it was kinda hard to ignore you and Santana talking the other night and I shouldn't have accused you have stealing her from me."

Dave zips up his bag and hoists it up on his shoulder, back to the table, ignoring Sam.

Sam keeps at it. "OK, so I should have accused of stealing her, because I didn't know better at the time, but I get what happened and it wasn't your fault."

Dave turns around. "Thanks?"

Sam shrugs. "I'm dyslexic."

Dave frowns at the non sequitur. "OK? No offense Sam, but I figured that out. Kinda mixed up your rights and lefts during practice."

"I mean, it took me a long time to learn how to read and people always gave me shit about it. Like, Evans is such a retard he doesn't even know how to read or write. So I get it. Having people treat you like shit because they don't understand."

Dave nods. "Thanks, man." He licks his lips and adds, sincerely, "You're not stupid. And you were ten times the quarterback Hudson was."

Sam grins.

"It's a good thing no one else is home," Kurt says seriously.

"You were looking at my Y: The Last Man comics, so I'm guessing you'd be interested, but The Avengers is out in theaters and me and Artie are going Friday night, if you want—"

"Sure." For the first time that night, Dave smiles.

Some things are still difficult for Dave. He has to fight off rumors about his suicide attempt even at his new school, his mom still hasn't come back, his dad is still waiting for her to come home and Kurt is willing to bet that if he looked through Dave's phone, Kurt is the only person who ever calls or texts him.

Dave refers to himself as "the suicidal guy" and whether that how he actually views himself or just what everyone else sees after hearing the rumors, Kurt couldn't say.

He doesn't really want to be able to say for certain. He's choosing ignorance, for the small escape that it allows him.

Sam and Dave exchange numbers. They'd never programmed each other's numbers into their phones although they have them on some long-lost football roster from last year.

This is definitely progress. This is the start of a genuine friendship. This is Sam, who is both sweet and a nerd, bonding with Dave, who has nerdy tendencies and is prone to anger. And maybe sweet-Sam will pave the way for the kindness that Kurt knows hides inside of Dave, if he's ever willing to let it out.


	17. Prom

AN: I really should update this more than once every three weeks. Also, all of you continue to astound me with your words of praise. Thanks so much.

Chapter 17—Prom

"_Fucking Avengers!_" Sam yells at Kurt out of pure, unadulterated excitement before he's out the door, jumping on his bike and racing off to Artie's house where Dave is picking them up.

Sam is incredibly careful with his money and usually doesn't spend it on anything that he doesn't absolutely need, but he'll spend $10 on a Friday night showing of The Avengers, no questions asked.

Kurt spreads a couple different suits out on his bed. He didn't sew anything special for prom this year. He's been too lethargic from his failing relationship with Blaine to want to create a new outfit for a formal party that his friends are forcing him to attend.

Unfortunately, he already has his ticket to prom, and Mercedes and Tina are using that to blackmail him into going. _"But you paid for the ticket! Now you have to go!"_ And when he tried to weasel his way out by saying that he didn't have anything to wear, Mercedes cut him off with, _"Boy, I've seen your closet, don't you dare give me that."_

Rachel had positively begged him to go because she's so distressed over the Finn/Quinn prom court thing. (Kurt still doesn't understand why that's such a big deal, not only because he doesn't support them getting married yet, but because he really doesn't understand. By the point that Rachel approaches him though, Tina and Mercedes had already worked their magic and he's stuck.)

So here he is. Sorting through his outfits for something suitable just so he can show up, single, and watch all the happy couples bump, grind and occasionally, slow dance.

He slow danced at prom once. Junior prom, but still a prom. It was right after he'd been coronated and with his arms wrapped around his boyfriend, he truly felt like he could take on the world.

One year has turned out to be an awfully long time.

Hell, a _week_ is practically eternity. And sometimes, not nearly long enough. It isn't delaying the inevitable. He's terrified of the day when he has to open his acceptance letter from NYADA. He has a

good feeling that Rachel will want them to open their letters together, and there's no way that she could've gotten in, not when she forgot the lyrics to her song. Kurt, however, knows he did well and that knowledge makes him sick to his stomach when he remembers Rachel's audition.

His phone buzzes on his bed, next to what is currently his second choice prom outfit.

A text message from Dave that only says _AVENGERS!_

At least Dave is having fun. One of them deserves to have some fun.

In the morning, he's going to drive Sam to the Lima Community Center to take the SATs (Kurt had taken his a month earlier,) then he has to get ready for a dance that he's fairly sure Blaine is still going to. The day after that is Mother's Day, which is a headache in and of itself. If there was a way for society to let him conveniently forget that Mother's Day even exists, he would be quite happy to live in blissful ignorance.

What a horrible weekend this is shaping up to be.

He decides on an outfit even though he isn't completely sold on it, because he knows that there's no way he's going to be happy with anything he chooses. He picks a pair of slim fitting black pinstripe pants, suspenders, a white button down, top hat and a narrow azure tie to bring out his eyes. A little more casual than what he would normally pick, but at this point he can't bring himself to care too much.

Sam comes home from the movie and raves about it to Kurt and Finn, spilling spoiler after spoiler, shutting up only when Finn says "Dude, stop ruining it!" for the third time.

Kurt allows himself to get lost in Sam's descriptions (and impressions, because Sam is incapable of telling a story without them) and manages to forget about prom, if only for a moment.

* * *

Kurt drops Sam off at the Lima Community Center and returns home to fix his hair a second time, because if he's going to pull off this slightly-casual, indifferent yet sexy look that he's going for, then he's going to _pull it off_.

He poofs and hairsprays his hair until he's inhaling his hairspray (he pointedly avoids any gel what-so-ever, as Brittany banned it from prom because it isn't "dinosaur,") uses a blackhead strip on his chin and nose, and frets over his outfit again before it's finally time to get Sam.

His dad is back in D.C., Carole got stuck with working over the weekend and Finn is out picking up his corsage for Rachel, so the house is empty and quiet.

Silence is eerie in the Hummel-Hudson house. Normally someone has a friend over or Finn is playing his drum set, or Sam and Finn are playing some kind of video game that Kurt has only a mild interest in.

Looking at the clothes that he has spread out over his bed once again in preparation, it feels even more quiet. It feels like the end, knowing that he has to slip on those clothes and pretend like it doesn't hurt, going to prom and seeing his ex-boyfriend there, but not with him. But it does hurt and he thinks that it's not fair that it hurts, because he broke up with Blaine so everyone expects that he's fine with it. He's trying to be fine with it, and sometimes he actually is, but it's all so fresh. Ending the relationship still feels like he failed at something huge.

He studies his prom picture from the year before, with a crown on his head and his arm around Blaine. That picture, that moment, felt like he won. Not winning prom queen, because that was never meant as a compliment, but the moment after. When he came back to get the crown that no one expected him to want and he showed everyone that he had guts. Even after Dave left the gym to the protest of no one, Kurt was still over the moon.

Maybe he shouldn't have been.

It's too late for that now.

He hides the picture of him and Blaine up high in his closet, where he keeps other important pictures that are too upsetting to look at, like pictures of his mom holding him as a baby.

He picks a small piece of lint off of his suit pants and leaves to pick up Sam. If he doesn't stop the moroseness, then he'll have to hear about it from everyone, so he forces a smile. Time to start practicing for the rest of the night.

* * *

Sam and Finn clean up nice even though they both have second hand suits. Kurt tells them that (leaving out the part about the used suits,) then it's off to Rachel's, where her dads insist on taking twice as many pictures because Burt and Carole couldn't make it.

Sam and Kurt wind up being in some of the pictures as well. They take a picture of Sam, Finn and Kurt, with Kurt in the middle and everyone's arms thrown over each other. It's a picture that Kurt will be glad to have, especially once he's settled in New York, but for right now, he's tired.

Dinner at the ever-so-fancy Breadstix is the first time that Kurt sees Blaine. Rachel keeps Blaine mostly occupied but even so, Kurt can hear the complaints about the ban on hair gel. Blaine's hair is frizzy like Kurt hasn't seen it before, and it might have looked endearing, had it not been for all the whining. Kurt has seen Blaine without gel in the past, but his hair was always wet, fresh out of the shower, not dry and looking like someone rubbed a balloon all over his head.

Kurt gets sandwiched between Sam and Mercedes. That would've be fine, had it not been for the way Mercedes keeps glancing wistfully at Sam, which makes Kurt want to yell at her about turning Sam down. There's no point in playing hard to get when you both already want each other.

The dance itself is exactly what Kurt had both expected and feared. It's green and yellow crepe paper, cheap punch made from concentrate and flavored with bottom shelf vodka (courtesy of Puck, who relishes finally being able to successfully spike the punch) and straight couples hanging all over each other with stars in their eyes.

Of course Rachel and Blaine sing, together and individually, and with the amount of emotion they squeeze into their cheesy lyrics, you'd think the world was ending.

Figgins, thankfully, cuts them off before they can really get going.

It's time to reveal who won prom court, an event that surely only those involved would care about.

Rachel waits next to Kurt while Finn wheels Quinn up to the stage. Rachel smoothes her hands down her dress and Kurt can _feel_ the way her eyes harden.

Figgins opens his envelope containing the winning names and takes the appropriate pause before announcing: "This year's prom king—Finn Hudson! Achievement!"

No surprise there.

Figgins gestures to quiet down the cheering and applause, loudest from the Gleeks, then continues with: "And this year's prom queen—" he pulls the second name out of the envelope—"with an overwhelming number of write-in votes—"

Kurt's heart stops. It's happening again. Oh god, it's happening again. He holds his breath and waits for it, for his name to be read again, for him to be crowned prom queen the second year in a row. Figgins's eyes even flick in Kurt's direction.

Kurt wills back his tears. He's not going to run out this time. He's going to walk up to the stage with pride and accept the crown without hesitation, unlike last year. He's going to show everyone that he's grown even more brave since then and that he really doesn't care what anything thinks. He'll take whatever they can dish out because he's better than that.

Out of the corner of his eye he can see some of his classmates eyeing him. Cheerios, band geeks, jocks, mathletes—it seems like at least one person from every social circle picks him out of the crowd.

Figgins opens his mouth. He thinks it's only been a few seconds, a glorified pause to build the tension, but Kurt wouldn't bet money on it, because he's been brought back in time an entire year.

"Miss Rachel Berry!" Figgins calls out.

Rachel gasps, jumps once in place and practically tackles Kurt in a hug before she bounds up to the stage, tears of joy in her eyes, and waits with barely contained excitement for the crown to be placed on her head.

No one's excitement measures up to half of hers but she couldn't care less.

Just like that, it's over. People forget about Kurt, the newly single gay kid.

He watches Finn and Rachel dance and struggles to feel happy for them.

He doesn't even notice the person standing next to him until he hears Blaine's soft voice in his ear, "I was worried for a second there."

Kurt faces him. With Blaine's ridiculous, out of control curls he looks sort of sweet. "Were you?" Kurt asks, more venomously than intended.

"What? Of course I was! I take it personally that you think I don't care what happens to you."

Kurt sighs. "Can we not do this right now?"

Blaine crosses his arms. "Fine."

They watch the end of Finn and Rachel's dance, cringing as Finn narrowly avoids stepping on Rachel's feet.

"Can you believe these tacky decorations?" Blaine asks.

"Yes," Kurt says, because he doesn't particularly want to talk to Blaine, and because he _can_ believe how hideous they are.

"This whole thing is just a mess," Blaine adds, not getting the hint.

Kurt tips his head back, exasperated, and rolls his eyes over to Blaine. He knows what's coming and he hopes, prays that he doesn't know Blaine so well, but— "And this hair gel ban, what was Brittany thinking, it's _prom_—"

Yeah, he knows Blaine pretty well.

Blaine carries on for a bit, whining about his hair. And with all his complaining he really looks like a petulant child.

"Do everyone around you a favor," Kurt snaps, taking off his top hat and stuffing it on Blaine's Bob Ross curls.

Kurt leaves the gym before Blaine's shock can wear off.

It's cool for May in Lima and there's a light breeze that meshes perfectly with Kurt's heated attitude. He's alone outside the school, but as he's alone inside himself, he welcomes it. It's nice to be as alone as he feels.

Until he hears the rustle of a polyester ball gown around the corner of the school, and knows that some couple is making out or possibly more.

It's hard to feel alone after that.

He could leave. He could drive home and crawl into his bed and feel sorry for himself. Except his friends need his car for transportation. They don't have enough cars between them to get everyone home in one trip otherwise.

It's too far to walk back to his house, too dark out, and the breeze feels nice right now but he'll be shivering soon without a coat.

Everyone he knows is in the gym. Mercedes drove, but she managed to get Sam to dance with her, and Santana drove, but she's busy dancing with Brittany.

But it's not true that everyone he knows is inside the gym.

He pulls out his phone and calls Dave.

It's 11:00, not terribly late for a Saturday, but he's still relieved when Dave picks up and it doesn't sound like he was sleeping.

"Hey Kurt," he says, a question in his voice.

"Hi David."

"Is something wrong?"

Yes, but Kurt couldn't say for certain what it was.

"I know this is kind of a lot to ask," Kurt says, "but could you do something for me?"

"Depends," Dave says, playfully skeptical.

"Forget it. This was stupid. Forget I called."

"If it's like, illegal or something, then I'm less willing to help, but come on Kurt, just say it."

Kurt rubs his arm where the wind-chill is starting to set in. "Could you pick me up from McKinley?"

"McKinley?" Dave asks, like he thought he heard wrong. "The hell are you doing at McKinley?"

"Prom."

Without hesitation, Dave promises that he will get Kurt immediately.

* * *

Dave shows up ten minutes later. The couple outside emerges from their corner and the guy stares hard at Dave's pick-up.

Kurt marches over to the passenger side of the truck and opens the door. "Do you know that guy?" he asks Dave without looking at him, still standing in between the open door and the cab.

"Yeah, from hockey."

Kurt returns the guy's stare, positively daring him to say anything.

He doesn't disappoint. "What'd you know, the king and queen hitching a ride together."

Kurt's hand tightens on the door handle. He's itching to storm up to that guy and give him a piece of his mind. Like it's any of his business if Kurt gets in Dave's car.

"Get in the car," Dave urges him. "It's not worth it."

"But it would feel so good," Kurt says, maintaining eye contact with the nameless jock.

"Whatever you say to him is in one ear and out the other. He's an idiot. Please, get in the car."

"Fine." Kurt unwillingly relinquishes the staring contest and climbs in the cab. The jock snickers at him and walks off with his date. "But I take no responsibility for anything spiteful that I might say. It's not directed at you. And thank you, by the way, for getting me. It's much appreciated."

"You're welcome," Dave says. "Are you going to explain why I'm picking you up when your car is in the parking lot?"

"Thanks for reminding me!" Kurt exclaims, pulling out his phone and shooting off a text to Finn. _Got a ride. My car is yours. Please please be careful with her. I'm trusting you._

"OK? That didn't really answer my question."

Kurt leans back against the old gray upholstery. The cab smells a little musty and he can't tell if it's coming from the seats or the old heating system. Maybe both. Something makes a little _tick tick tick_ noise that Kurt would be inclined to investigate, were he not in nice clothes. The radio is on but turned down so low that it's virtually unintelligible. Dave's ice skates rest on the tiny backseat.

"I couldn't stay any longer. And my friends need my car to get home."

"I thought prom would've been your thing. Getting dressed up."

Kurt shakes his head sadly. "Not this time."

Dave nods as he turns onto Kurt's street. He pulls into Kurt's empty driveway and shifts to park, turning the radio off completely. "Do you, um," he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, "do you want to talk about it?"

"There's not much to say."

Dave nods again.

Kurt continues anyway, partially because he thinks he owes Dave a better explanation and partially because he wants to, and he knows that Dave will listen. "Figgins announced prom court. The queen won with write-in votes."

In the dark, Kurt can see the extra shininess in Dave's eyes and he knows that Dave understands what Kurt was feeling at that moment.

Kurt smiles grimly. "It was Rachel. Rachel won." He peers out the window at the nothingness. It's quieter than reliving the memories. It's easier to speak when he doesn't have to see the way Dave looks at him, not with sympathy like so many others, but with understanding.

Understanding almost makes it worse. People shouldn't understand things like this.

"For a moment, before Figgins read Rachel's name, everyone looked at me. They were all waiting to see what I would do. But I didn't have Blaine this time and… you know when you're in a crowd but you feel so alone? But you're not invisible and that's the problem."

Dave bows his head. For a while there's just the _tick tick tick_ of Dave's truck and the stale air. When Dave finally speaks, he says, "You're not alone." His voice is gravelly like it gets when he's so sad.

"Neither are you," Kurt promises. "I mean it, David."

Dave shrugs. He reaches out like he's going to touch Kurt, then retracts and shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt.

"You can touch me if you want." Kurt's face warms and he waits for a sign from Dave that that was OK to say.

Dave scoffs and turns away from Kurt. He tightens his arms against his sides and his eyebrows draw together.

He's acting macho.

He's _acting_.

"David?" Kurt's fingers brush against Dave's cheek. He was going for his shoulder, but Dave whips around at the sound of his name and the angle is just right for Kurt's soft, muscled fingers to trace the stubble on Dave's jaw.

Dave deftly catches Kurt's wrist. His thumb rests on the pulse point, his palm gently cradling the back of Kurt's hand. "I thought you liked being the center of attention," he whispers.

"Not that kind," Kurt whispers back. Dave's eyes are trained on his, glassy and dark in the night. Kurt feels the weight on his lower eyelids, the tingling in his nose and tightness in his throat that means that his eyes are glassy too. His wrist is warm where Dave holds it, suspended in between them.

"What kind do you like?"

"The kind that views me as more than a walking stereotype."

"You are so much more than a stereotype."

Kurt swallows. He doesn't dare blink, not when Dare is staring at him so earnestly.

Then Dave's eyes dip down to Kurt's lips and just as quickly, he drops Kurt's wrist and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Are you going to get out?" Dave asks, like he's been trying to get rid of Kurt the entire time his truck has idled in the driveway.

Kurt unbuckles his seatbelt. Dave's kicking him out. Dave wants to be left alone.

…Or Dave thinks that Kurt is looking for an excuse to leave.

"Are you going skating?" Maybe Dave just leaves his skates in his truck all the time. Maybe it's a coincidence.

"I was, until I had to go rescue someone from the horrors of high school prom."

"My hero," Kurt says drily.

Dave scowls at him in fake anger.

At least they can joke about little things. Kurt can't help a smile at that.

"You didn't want to come, did you?" Dave asks in a tone that he might think passes for nonchalant. Kurt knows him better than that. He hears the hope in Dave's voice.

"Are you kidding? Not dressed like this!"

"You could always change, but I don't want to wait an hour for you."

"An hour? I could change in five minutes."

"Yeah? I'll set my stopwatch. Five minutes."

Shit. Maybe he should've said ten.

"OK," Kurt says, not one to back down from a challenge, "five minutes." He hops up from the seat and throws the door open.

"Hey Kurt," Dave calls before Kurt can slam the door shut behind him. "You look really good." Dave smiles shyly like he did back on Valentine's Day and Kurt freezes in his tracks. Dave really does have a pleasant face when he smiles.

"Thank you," Kurt says quietly, incredibly touched. "Wait—this better not count as part of the five minutes."

Dave loses the sweet smile and grins wickedly. "Oh, it totally counts." He holds up his watch for emphasis.

"You little—" Kurt huffs, and when he fails to come up with what little thing Dave is, he slams the door because he only has _four minutes_ to change and he'll be damned if he's going to let Dave Karofsky get the better of him. Not this time.


	18. Ice Breaker

Chapter 18—Ice Breaker

Dave's stopwatch reads 5:57 when Kurt makes it back to the truck.

"You're almost a full minute over," Dave tsks once Kurt is seated.

"You stalled me for one of those minutes and used it against me, which means that I actually have three seconds to spare."

"No, I stalled you for _48_ _seconds_, so you're still over time."

"Nine whole seconds," Kurt deadpans.

"Yes Fancy, _nine seconds._ You're late."

Kurt crosses his arms. "Fine. Jackass. But I'll have you know that this shirt and these jeans don't even go together. That's the sacrifice I'm making for you."

Dave scans Kurt's clothes. "What?"

"Forget it. It's not like you're going to judge me based on whether or not the color of my shirt compliments the wash of my jeans."

"I'm going to judge you just because you said that." Dave smirks at him.

"Antagonist," Kurt snarks.

Dave just laughs. He pulls out of the driveway, surprisingly deft at maneuvering his clunky truck despite the fact that it ticks like a bomb.

Kurt scowls at him and turns up the radio. He's expecting hard rock. Guns N' Roses, AC/DC or Led Zeppelin.

What he finds is—"Rod Stewart?"

"So?"

"Based on the heinous music I heard coming out of your room, I thought you'd be into something more ear-piercing with a heavy bass."

"Z made me that CD. Just hadn't taken it out of my stereo."

Kurt grins. "Dave Karofsky. Who knew. Defying stereotypes."

Dave frowns. "Stereotypes?"

Kurt waves his hand flippantly. "You know, that jocks have horrible taste in music and will only listen to things that scream loud enough."

Dave's face settles into the standard, stoic-albeit-aggressive features of his bullying days. "I never said that I didn't like that CD, just that I didn't burn it."

"But you're listening to this, so." Rod Stewart isn't Kurt's typical go-to music, but anything is better than what Finn blasts throughout the house on a regular basis.

"So what? I can't like both? I can't listen to horrible, ear-piercing music and classic rock?"

"You can. I was just surprised."

"Surprised about what? That I like horrible music _and_ this?" He's tense like he's ready for a long argument.

"It's just not what I was expecting."

"Yeah? What should I be listening to instead? Please, enlighten me, since you know me _so well._"

"I don't know, David." Kurt sighs. "Can we not do this?"

Dave scrubs a hand over his face. "Sorry. I don't want to be given shit for listening to music that I actually like." He loses some of his belligerent edge.

"Was I giving you shit?" Kurt asks, taken aback.

"About my horrible, ear-piercing music that I only listen to because it screams loudly enough?" Dave answers, squinting out at the dark road in front of him.

"This isn't typical teenager music. I meant it as a compliment that you like it. You're diverse. And if we're done," Kurt says, turning up the volume, "I actually like this song too."

_Oh Maggie I wish I'd never seen your face  
You made a first-class fool out of me  
But I'm as blind as a fool can be  
You stole my heart but I love you anyway_

As the guitar solo picks up, Dave speaks. "I'm so sick of you making assumptions about me."

"It's not—"

"Personal?"

"I was going to say intentional. Everyone makes assumptions."

"And yours are always negative. Not that I blame you."

Kurt shrinks down in his seat. He hadn't meant to make Dave feel self-conscious, not at all. But Dave's self-deprecating side is coming out full force.

"You know what they say about assumptions," Kurt adds weakly.

"Yours make an ass out of me?"

"That's not how the expression goes."

"May as well be."

"David. Cut it out. Yes, sometimes I judge you unfairly, but you have a habit of going against whatever preconceived notions I may have about you or your interests. And I judge everyone. You're not unique in that way. Finn usually gets the brunt of it, but that's just because I live with him and he leaves his dirty socks _everywhere_."

"I'm just sick of it," Dave repeats lamely. "That your first impression of me is always bad."

"Not always," Kurt counters. "At first yeah, but not now."

"Most of the time."

"It's lessening."

Dave parks as close as he can get to the Sportsplex entrance. He turns off the engine and lets the radio play.

"I hate that it has to be like that," Dave says, but Kurt hears _I hate myself_.

"It's getting better," Kurt promises.

"Is it?"

"David, I wouldn't be sitting here if everything between us wasn't getting better."

"Most people in your position wouldn't be sitting here at all."

Kurt's heart thumps from the fondness in Dave's eyes. He doesn't deserve that look from Dave, not after their conversation about how Kurt continually judges Dave unfairly. "Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong," he mumbles. "Ghandi."

Dave doesn't respond immediately. He turns his attention to his keys in the ignition, yanking them out but not before Simon and Garfunkel sing out _Let us be lovers, remind me of fortunes together…_

Dave reaches behind his seat and retrieves his skates. If the lyrics resonate with him at all, he doesn't let them affect him anymore than their conversation already has. "We better go in. Rob's going to be pissed at me for keeping him waiting."

* * *

True to Dave's word, Rob is pretty mad. He greets the two of them with, "Hey, Karofsky, would you mind reminding me what time I close on Saturdays?"

"Um, 11:00?"

"So when you say you're showing up at closing, what time does that mean to me?"

"11:00?" Dave answers meekly.

"You care to remind me what time it is now?"

Dave eyes the clock above the front doors. It reads "11:30." He faces Rob again and winces apologetically.

"Dave, I don't mind letting you skate for free sometimes. You're a good kid and not enough people recognize that. But I'm running a business here and I have a life. I can't just wait around all night for your ass to show up."

"Sorry, Rob, I—"

"Don't make excuses. People in the real world don't want to listen to them. Own up to your mistakes. And _show up on time._"

"Yes, sir," Dave says.

"And don't fucking _sir_ me. Jesus Christ."

Rob finally notices Kurt. "I suppose you need skates," he bites out.

Kurt's eyes widen. He nods quickly once and mumbles "thanks" before scurrying after Rob over to the skate rental booth.

Rob produces the same skates that Kurt wore before, without even asking Kurt what size.

"Dave, I don't care if you bring your boyfriend with you, but no more free skates after this. I'm already letting you use the ice for free, the least you can do is get your own skates so there's less wear on my rentals."

Dave starts to protest, with "He's not my—" at the same time that Kurt is pulling out his wallet to offer money for skate rentals.

Too late; Rob disappears into his office and slams the door.

Kurt winces. Dave shrugs. "He's in a mood," Dave says. "He gets like that every time he tries to quit smoking. Come on."

Dave leads Kurt over to the same bench they sat on last time. They lace up their skates in silence.

Dave finishes first, and just like before, he leaves Kurt by himself so that he can do laps around the empty rink.

That's fair. Dave was going to skate by himself originally. The least Kurt can do is let him have a few minutes to himself on the ice.

That doesn't mean that Kurt isn't going to watch.

Dave skates backwards for an entire lap, with his head turned so he can watch where he's going. His movements are quick and smooth, like a cat preparing to pounce.

When he passes the spot where Kurt is waiting at the entrance to the rink, he grins and gestures for Kurt to join him.

There's no Brittney Spears this time. No Backstreet Boys, no N'SYNC, no Christina Aguilera. Just the two of them and the ice.

Everything seems so simple.

Kurt's phone vibrates in his pocket, but he lets it go. He's got ice skates and an ice rink to share with Dave.

Dave comes back around to where Kurt is waiting and slides into a stop.

Kurt quirks an eyebrow. "Impressive," he deadpans.

"Hockey stop," Dave smiles smugly. "You gonna get on the ice, or just watch me skate?"

"Watching you skate is tempting. It enables me to keep both of my ankles intact."

Dave laughs. "Come on. I didn't wait six minutes for you for nothing."

"Five minutes."

"Five minutes and nine seconds."

Kurt glares at Dave as he cautiously steps out onto the ice.

"Careful," Dave warns, and he offers his hand to Kurt when Kurt struggles to get his footing.

Kurt takes it. He had forgotten to bring gloves this time, since he was busy focusing on how to change clothes the fastest. It's his hand in Dave's, the same fit as before, with Dave's warm, larger hand encircling his. Skin on skin contact.

Kurt looks up and meets Dave's eyes. He's acutely aware that it's prom night, and just like that, ice skating feels like a date.

Dave seems to feel it too. He drops Kurt's hand and skates back a few strokes. The residual laughter fades from his face.

It is what it is. There's nothing to say to stop the awkwardness and acknowledging it would only perpetuate the feeling.

The tension is broken by the sounds of children laughing and screaming. Kurt doesn't have very long to be horrified before the music starts. It's not 90's hits this time.

It's unbearably sappy.

_There's two things I know for sure_

_She was sent here from heaven_

_And she's daddy's little girl_

"God fucking damn it, Rob!" Dave shouts, turning in the direction of Rob's office, even though they're too far away to see it.

"Whoa, simmer down cowboy," Kurt says.

"He's doing this on purpose because he's still pissed at me for showing up late."

"Well you can't exactly talk to him about it now, can you?"

"No. But he's got cameras. Asshole can still see me."

"Then don't give him the satisfaction of freaking out. Let's just skate."

_In all that I've done wrong_

_I must've done something right_

_To deserve a hug every morning_

_And butterfly kisses at night_

"I just really really hate this song," Dave huffs.

"You don't say."

And then they're back to being friends, exchanging sarcastic comments, all courtesy of Bob Carlisle.

Kurt's hands get slightly chilled, but it would be inappropriate of him to take advantage of Dave's warm hands when they're not on a date, even though it felt like they were for a split second.

Instead, Kurt rubs his hands together and slides them in his pockets.

* * *

Finn calls him twice on his way home from the Sportsplex. Turns out the text that he ignored was from Finn too.

"Sorry, I should answer this before Finn has an aneurism," Kurt says while Dave drives him home.

Dave cranks the music down while Kurt answers the call with a weary, "Hello?"

"Where the hell did you go?" Finn replies.

"I told you, I got a ride."

"With _who_? All of our friends were at the dance."

"I have friends outside of Glee, Finn."

"No you don't."

Rude. "David picked me up," Kurt snaps.

Dave stares carefully out his windshield, pointedly ignoring any attachment to the conversation.

"Then how come you're not home?" Finn asks accusingly.

"We went ice skating."

"You left prom," Finn says, "to go on a date with Karofsky?"

"It wasn't a date!" Kurt exclaims out of irritation because that's twice in one night, and as soon as the words are out of his mouth, he regrets them. "Look, I'll be home in five minutes." He hangs up the phone.

"Sorry," Kurt mutters. "Finn was being annoying."

"It's fine," Dave says, still focused on the street in front of him.

It isn't.

Dave doesn't say anything else. Neither one of them turn up the radio. Neither one of them move until Dave is pulling into Kurt's driveway.

Kurt unbuckles his seatbelt and slowly releases it. "Look, David," Kurt says.

"We've talked about this. I know, OK? I get it."

"Would you just listen?" This whole situation is so exasperating.

Dave shuts up, but he doesn't look happy about it. He frowns and he blinks a lot and he crosses his arms.

"I'm single for the first time in a year and I have no idea what I'm doing. And I need some time because…" He swallows, and repeats, "I have no idea what I'm doing." Kurt rests his hand on Dave's arm. "I don't want to hurt you. Please, say something."

"Stop touching me." Dave meets Kurt's eyes and holds his gaze.

Kurt pulls away.

"Are you leaving?" Dave commands rather than asks. To emphasize his point, he turns up the volume on his radio.

Kurt has one more thing to say. He grabs Dave's hand to stop him from turning the radio up even more.

Dave freezes. He had asked Kurt not to touch him and Kurt is doing it again.

This is important and Kurt needs to make sure that Dave is listening. "David, you make me feel more like myself than I've felt in a long time. And I need some time to figure out what that means."

Dave takes a long time to process those words. He keeps his hand motionless under Kurt's.

"I think we need some time apart."

"What?" Kurt asks, because surely he heard that wrong.

"I'm not going to hurt myself again."

"David—"

"That's what this is all about, isn't it? Poor closeted Dave who has no one. Are you trying to save me? Is that what this is?"

Partially, but even so—"That's completely unfair." Kurt snatches his hand back. He's shaking.

"Is it?"

"How dare you talk to me like that."

"You're welcome, by the way. I'm glad that you're able to use me to feel better about yourself."

"You asshole. How dare you. I try to tell you that I think I'm starting to feel something for you, and you belittle me and say that I'm _using you_? Where do you get off?" Anger pours off of him in waves. He's furious that Dave is hiding something from him and attacking him in an attempt to deter him. He's even more furious that he isn't surprised.

"Get out of the car," Dave whispers. He's crying softly.

Kurt refuses to feel bad for him. Not when most of this is Dave's fault. "No," he says.

"Get out of the car," Dave says again, louder this time. "Please." His voice waivers.

"What's wrong, you can't run away this time so you're trying to force me to?"

"Get out," Dave yells, and there's the Karofsky that Kurt remembers. "Fuck you."

"Fine," Kurt yells back. "Be like that. See if I care." He shoves open the door and hops out of the truck.

Outside the truck, he's able to breathe. He's able to recognize that Dave is obviously upset and despite how much Dave yells at him, things aren't going to improve if Kurt yells back.

It's just _so easy_ to fight fire with fire.

"David, wait," Kurt says, after he takes a few deep breaths and his anger starts to dissipate. "Can we talk about this?"

Dave reaches across the passenger seat and pulls the door shut.

* * *

Kurt doesn't communicate with people about Dave. The only person that he talks to about Dave is Dave, and even that's not completely true. Obviously, this is the epitome of their problems. They don't talk. They cry and they yell. They touch and they pull away. They kiss and—well. That was only one time. That doesn't really count. But it certainly doesn't add to their record of positive interactions.

Kurt thinks of people he could talk to about Dave. He runs through a list of family and friends, but no one seems right. Mercedes would blab to everyone, same with Tina. Finn would tell Rachel. Rachel would tell Finn and who knows who else. Maybe he could tell Sam, but he doesn't want Sam to be biased in his favor, (which he probably would be,) because Sam is starting to be friends with Dave. That's more important.

He's at a complete loss.

He frets and paces in his room.

What even happened? He told Finn that ice skating wasn't a date and he was probably more adamant about it than he should have been. But it wasn't a date, so Dave shouldn't have been upset about that.

What really set Dave off was when Kurt started trying to tell Dave how much he means to him.

Dave thinks that they need time apart, but as far as Kurt can tell, what they really need to do is _talk_. Otherwise they go in circles. They insult each other back and forth until Dave eventually apologizes and won't let Kurt share any of the credit.

That's not what's going to happen this time.

He's going to show up at Dave's house tomorrow and they're going to figure this out. They're going to get everything out in the open. All the feelings, good or bad. Then, if Dave wants space, Kurt will give it to him. Maybe.

He has to wake up early to celebrate Mother's Day with Carole and Finn. Finn is insisting on making her some kind of breakfast, even though Carole is coming home from working the night shift and it'll be her dinnertime. But breakfast-for-dinner is one of Finn's favorite meals, so he refuses to see reason on the matter.

Later in the afternoon, he has plans with Rachel. They're going to boycott Mother's Day together.

All in all, Sunday is shaping up to be exhausting, depressing and unrewarding. The perfect end to a perfect weekend. And he didn't even get to come home with a crown.

* * *

AN: The songs in this chapter were: "Maggie May" by Rod Steward, "American" by Simon & Garfunkel and "Butterfly Kisses" by Bob Carlisle. I'm starting NaNoWriMo next week, so I won't be able to update very much during November, but I'll try my hardest to get another update posted before the end of the month. Thanks for all the support everyone! And thanks to Rubylis for beta-ing this chapter for me!


	19. Mother's Day: Morning

AN: Wow, it's been a long time. Sorry for the delay everyone, but real life hit me hard. In mostly good ways, but it meant not being able to write on this like I wanted. I'm trying to write a little bit on this story everyday during my breaks at work, though, so I'm expecting to be able to update more frequently. Not sure how many chapters after this. I should have an estimate next time. Here's this! Had to split it in half because I didn't want to make you wait any longer.

Chapter 19

Mother's Day: Morning

Finn manages to get up early all on his own in order to start preparing a big, Mother's Day breakfast for Carole on Sunday morning.

If Kurt wasn't already awake, then the noise of Finn banging around the kitchen and the smell of burning eggs would have woken him up, no problem.

Kurt puts a final, finishing touch of hairspray in his hair and stumbles down the stairs. He hasn't been sleeping very well.

Today marks the second Mother's Day since Carole and his dad got married. And Kurt is so happy that his dad has Carole, (and he loves Carole very much,) but things were easier when he didn't have to pretend to be enthusiastic on Mother's Day. Typically he spent the day with his dad and they both tried their best not to be too sad, because after all, they still had each other.

"Hey, bro!" Finn calls out to him as he tosses the browned scrambled eggs into the air like a pseudo fry-chef. To his credit, he does manage to keep everything in the frying pan, but Kurt still marches over and turns the burner on the stove down. Way down.

Finn gives him a blank stare.

"Are you making eggs or hamburger patties? Because right now I'm not sure I can see the difference."

"Good morning to you, too."

Kurt rubs his eyes. Thankfully, there's coffee.

"What time is Carole supposed to get off work?"

"She should be home in a half hour."

Kurt doesn't have the heart to tell Finn that his brown eggs and toast are going to be frigid by the time Carole finally comes home to eat them, so instead he gets a cantaloupe and some grapefruit out of the fridge and selects a sharp knife to begin cutting them.

"You seem pretty down," Finn says, and Kurt can tell that he's being a buzz kill. Finn was really excited about his breakfast.

"We'll see how you fair on Father's Day."

Something in Finn frying pan sizzles while Finn bows his head in understanding.

Finn shakes some frozen hashbrowns into his pan of olive oil and they inhale the scent of thawing potatoes and warm olive oil. There's a gentle crackling from the pan as they share a small, private smile at their collective misfortune.

"Thanks for helping," Finn says quietly.

Kurt nods. "Of course." He goes back to slicing his fruit.

They let silence settle over the kitchen while Kurt chops and Finn stirs.

"I'm leaving after breakfast," Kurt finally speaks once he's done with his fruit. "For a few hours. I'll be back for dinner."

"Going to see your mom?"

Kurt's not sure if it counts as 'seeing' her if he doesn't believe that people exist in any form of afterlife, but he says yes anyway.

"Rachel said that she was meeting up with you."

"She is."

Finn stirs his hashbrowns some more.

"I wish that the idea of family wasn't so based in genetics," Kurt says.

Finn looks up at him from across the kitchen. "It doesn't have to be." Finn's eyes are warm and he smiles again, a tiny, crooked grin that's slightly bittersweet.

Kurt offers him a wedge of cantaloupe and Finn accepts. For just a moment, their hands meet and their finger tips are warm against each other's skin.

* * *

Kurt goes to Dave's house first. He's never been there but that's not to say that he doesn't come up with some kind of expectations about what Dave's house should look like.

He looked Dave's address up in the phone book (as antiquated as that seems) because asking Finn about where Dave lives would a) arouse suspicion, and b) ruin Finn's nice morning with Carole. There's only one Paul Karofsky in the phone book anyway, so it's not like getting the address is difficult.

Dave doesn't live that far away him, actually. When the Hummel-Hudsons bought their new house, they managed to move about a block and a half from where Dave lives. This is comforting to note, because back when Dave was still being a problem, they lived on opposite sides of the McKinley High School boundaries.

It seems fitting that they're moving closer to each other as they start to realize what's the most vital to their relationship, whatever form that relationship might take on.

Kurt imagines that Dave's house is going to be bland, like something out of a Macy's display from the 90's. Colorless and characterless. Functionality only.

The place is… kind of a mess, actually. But it's a recently acquired mess. The house is a freshly painted cool-blue (probably painted during the heat-wave the previous summer), not the generic gray or off-white that he had been expecting. It's the yard that gets him, though. The overgrown grass doesn't match the upkeep on the paint job. All thoughts to the outward appearance to the house just dried up with that last coating of blue paint.

Weeds are sprouting up in the middle of a crack in the driveway. Branches are growing sideways out of once neatly-sculpted hedges under the large picture window.

It's like the family inside just packed up and left without warning. This is the way that he would expect houses to look after a zombie apocalypse. Places that were once loved slowly going to seed.

He rings the doorbell and its golden chime echoes somewhere deep inside the house.

Mr. Karofsky answers the door. His face falls when he sees Kurt standing there.

"Hi, Mr. Karofsky," Kurt says.

"Hi," he says back.

Kurt waits for him to open the door wider and let him inside. "Is Dave home?" Kurt prompts after Mr. Karofsky blinks at him a few times.

"Oh. Yes." He lets Kurt inside like he has just learned how to accept visitors into his home. "He's in his room."

…Which is where? Kurt glances around the house for a hallway that might contain a bedroom. The entryway leads to a modestly furnished living room, containing an upright piano that appears to be used for decoration only, along with splashes of bright colors to contrast the white walls. A pseudo-artist style, like someone made a minimal amount of effort to copy a spread in a magazine that they found appealing.

There's a doorway to a stainless-steel kitchen and a staircase lined with blue polka dotted wallpaper that leads to a second story. The staircase is probably his best bet.

"I'll show you," Mr. Karofsky finally says once he remembers that Kurt has never been here before.

Mr. Karofsky takes the stairs slowly, one at a time.

The house is silent. They're climbing the stairs that will take them to their demise. The climax to a horror movie and Kurt expects audience members would be yelling at them to turn back now.

He can't.

He has to talk to Dave. This is important, this is vital. Their every interaction feels life-altering somehow. Kurt thinks that's probably not a healthy way to respond to another person, but he'll deal with that later. And isn't it better to feel a connection to one person, rather than a detachment from everyone

The blue polka dot wallpaper gives way to wainscoting as they reach the attic bedroom that's Dave cell. There's soft plucking of Dave typing on his computer and the gentle backward push of a rolling chair as Dave stands up from his desk.

Mr. Karofsky swallows and raises a fist to knock on the door, but he moves like he's traveling through a thick haze, and he can't make his way out of everything that's pressuring him, holding him down.

"Someone at the door?" Dave yells through the walls. "Dad?"

Mr. Karofsky lowers his hand.

Dave throws open the door and his reaction to Kurt's presence is immediate. The way the anger slips slow perfectly into his face as his eyebrows pull together and tighten the mask, shielding his hurt.

"Kurt's here," Mr. Karofsky says unnecessarily.

There's no snarky comment in response. No "Really? You don't say." Or even the glib "No shit" that Kurt would expect from Dave.

He stands there in silence.

"I'm gonna—" Mr. Karofsky gestures down the stairs with his thumb. Everyone looks so tired from their private avoidance tactics. "I've got a card for you to sign, just in case… you know," he says, hushed, before maneuvering around Kurt at the top of the narrow attic steps.

Dave stares defiantly at his dad's retreating back before finally saying, "What?" with a confrontational edge to his voice.

"I wanted to talk," Kurt says, stating the obvious because he didn't plan an introduction to this conversation. "Can we talk, for once?"

"I don't know, can we?" It's meant as a snotty comeback, and it partially comes off that way, but Kurt picks up on the genuine question as Dave abandons his doorway and slumps onto his plaid comforter. Can they talk? They've never set out to have a conversation before. Not really. Not something as banal as _talking_.

Kurt follows Dave into his room.

There's evidence of Dave's athletic conquests littered throughout the room. Trophies from a few different sports, a photo of pee-wee baseball with a miniature Puck in the background, flaunting muscles that aren't quite there.

There's a picture from a Boy Scout camping trip, where Mr. Karofsky is teaching a ten-year-old Dave how to build a fire as Finn stuffs a marshmallow into his mouth. The sun sets on their campsite, so the details are difficult to make out, but Dave places logs around the campfire and smiles up at his dad, who looks on approvingly, one hand resting on his son's shoulder.

Kurt memorizes the adoration on young Dave's face as he sits at the fire pit. He's so unguarded. Unashamed. He wonders what age Dave was taught to feel shame. Kurt had learned the feeling of shame right around the same time that he figured out what it really meant to be a boy, and that being a boy meant that he wasn't supposed to like the things that he did. Sexual orientation had nothing to do with it. The stereotypes were the things that followed him.

Maybe it's easier to grow up being taught to feel ashamed than it is to suddenly discover the feeling when you're old enough to understand what it really means.

Dave's room is pretty all-American-boy. There's a small pool of dirty clothes lingering around a hamper and the sheets on the bed are rumpled, but otherwise Kurt can't complain too much.

"Let me know when you're done," Dave says impatiently, watching Kurt with narrowed eyes.

"How long were you in Boy Scouts?" Kurt asks, because it's an easy way to start talking.

"Long enough for me to realize that they didn't want me there."

"What do you mean?" Kurt meets Dave's eyes and considers sitting next to him on his bed, but Dave's posture is still confrontational, so perhaps distance is best. For now.

"I mean that once you start thinking 'Hey, fucking a dude might not be so bad,' it's becomes pretty easy to make excuses for why there suddenly isn't time for scouts."

"Did you like it?"

Dave shrugs. He looks over at the picture with his dad at the campfire. "Some of it wasn't so bad."

Kurt nods in understanding.

And that's the end of the conversation.

Dave fidgets on his bed, picking at a hangnail and letting out long, uneven breaths as he loses his grip on his anger. "Can you just say what you came here to say?" Dave says, and his voice breaks halfway through.

Moment of truth. Here goes.

It would be easier if Dave didn't look so petrified. "You don't have to be so nervous," Kurt says, actually sitting next to him now.

Dave bows his head, but he doesn't relax at all.

"Yesterday, I told you that I think I'm starting to feel something for you, and I can understand that that might be scary, but it's not like it's easy for me to admit, either."

Dave's frown deepens. Wrong thing to say.

"What I mean is, we have such a complicated past that this whole thing with you has caught me kind of off-guard."

Kurt waits for Dave offer any kind of answer. He doesn't. He sits and he processes and he doesn't move.

"And I don't want to pressure you," Kurt adds, because the silence suffocates him when they're not talking. "But I just got out of a long-term relationship and I'm moving to New York, and trying to figure out how to say good-bye to everyone, and how to… remember myself. Who I am. Who I used to be. Who I'm trying to be."

"So what," Dave says suddenly. "You expect me to sit around and wait for you?"

"No! That's not what I'm saying at all."

Dave is off the bed in a flash, standing in front of Kurt and staring him down. "Then explain what you _are_ saying. Because it sounds an awful lot like, 'maybe I like you, but I'm not sure. Would you like to wait around and find out while I move out of state'?"

Kurt shakes his head hard.

"You don't know anything about me. How can you think you care about me? Why would you want to?"

"Want to?" Kurt repeats, squinting at him. Who said anything about _wanting_ to have feelings for someone else? It's not something that you can control. "It's not like _you_ know anything about _me._"

"I know a lot more about you than you think." Dave smirks at him, cocky and smug. "I know that you're bitchy and judgmental and that you never know when to shut up. I know that you're sarcastic and shallow and… surprisingly forgiving." Dave's smirk softens into a smile, and the fondness in his eyes is bittersweet. "I know that you act indifferent sometimes, but you're a romantic. And flowers make you swoon." Dave forces his smile to widen, but it only magnifies his nostalgia. "And I know that you take a lot of shit from everyone, but not when it comes to your friends."

Kurt braces himself against the bed. This isn't fair. Dave's not allowed to just do that to him. To make his heart clench so painfully in his chest and to make it feel like he's falling, and he's not sure if it's a good or a bad feeling, or if it'll ever stop.

"David, I—" he says when he can finally speak again.

Dave cuts him off. "So don't act like I don't know anything about you. Maybe I don't know little things, like when your birthday is, or what your favorite food is, but I know the big things. And those are the things that matter to me."

That's… wow. Maybe Kurt could have convinced himself that Dave wasn't in love with him before, but not after that.

And maybe coming over here to talk to Dave when Kurt has no idea what he's feeling is a terrible, terrible idea.

Dave hangs his head. "Kurt, you and me… It's not going to happen. I know that. I've always known that. Valentine's Day and that time in the locker room were just… I don't know. I went crazy. Maybe I'm still going crazy."

"You're not crazy," Kurt says when he can speak again. He stands up from the bed on shaky legs and grabs both of Dave's hands in his own. "You're sweet."

Dave scoffs and turns his head but he doesn't pull away.

"You are," Kurt insists. "You're so sweet. And handsome." Dave's face turns red instantly and he shakes his head. "OK, so we disagree. But I'm persistent, so I'll just have to keep reminding you."

"I knew that about you, too."

Kurt shrugs and he can feel his face heat up.

"I'm still learning all the good things there are to know about you. But you're smart, even if you're trying to keep it a secret, and I don't know why you would, because intelligence is so _sexy_—" Kurt's face definitely turns red at that— "And you have a huge heart."

Kurt is close enough to Dave to register the moisture clinging to his eyelids. Dave's eyes are a bright, glassy green. His face is solemn as he finally pulls away from Kurt. "I've hurt you in the past. And I have anger problems. You deserve more than me. I'm a mess."

"I'm kind of a mess, too." That's the first time that Kurt has ever dared to think that. And saying it to Dave is easy. It lightens his heavy heart, even if it's just slightly. More importantly, it's true. Things have been rough. But they'll get better. They have to get better.

"But we're transitioning to a time when things will be better. And when that happens, there will be other things that don't make sense, but they will. Eventually."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I'm not. But I don't believe in god and I have to believe in something. So I believe in the idea that things won't always be bad. And when they are, it's temporary."

"I don't want you to be the only thing that I believe in."

Kurt wipes a tear off Dave's cheek with the pad of his thumb. "No pressure. I don't want you to be anyone other than yourself. Whoever that is."

"I don't know who that is," Dave says.

"I'm not going to promise you anything about the future. But, we'll go slow, and maybe we'll get the chance to learn little things about each other, instead of just the big, ugly things."

Dave rolls his eyes. "You couldn't be ugly if you tried."

Kurt crosses his arms. "David," he reprimands, "You've got to stop putting me on a pedestal."

"Why? Scared of heights?"

"No," Kurt says. "But it gets lonely up there."

Dave laughs quietly and presents Kurt with a bashful smile. "So, no promises." He manages to look only the smallest bit disappointed.

"No promises. But let's call it—a good inclination."

Dave nods, and his shy smile grows. Damn, kissing Dave would certainly go back on Kurt's word to take it slow and not make promises that he's not sure he'll be able to keep.

"I did make a promise to Rachel, however. I'm supposed to meet her. She's probably out wandering around a cemetery right now."

"You should go find her."

"I should," Kurt agrees, but he's not quite ready to say goodbye yet. "Or you could join us?"

Dave looks at him skeptically. "You and Rachel?"

"Come on, she's not that bad once you get over the crazy."

"Yeah, I just don't know if her crazy is going to be good for my crazy."

"David. You're not crazy. How persistent do I need to be with this?"

"Fuck if I know, but I'm sure you'll show me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Dave says. Then he grins wickedly and adds, "I dare you."

Maybe being around Rachel will help put a damper on his desires to kiss Dave.

If Dave keeps grinning like that, one Rachel isn't going to be enough. He'll need to find more.

Maybe two or three more. Or ten.


	20. Mother's Day: Afternoon

AN: Another huge delay. I'm trying to get better. Still recovering from the holidays and trying to catch up with friends. If you're interested in what I'm up to (mainly things that I'm writing) follow me on tumblr. Same username. Thanks for sticking with me, everyone. Not my favorite chapter by far, but here it is.

Chapter 20

Mother's Day: Afternoon

When Dave and Kurt descend from Dave's bedroom, Mr. Karofsky is seated at the kitchen table with a pile of papers spread out in front of him. He's got his head in his hands. He's motionless until Dave steps closer to him, and the sound of footsteps seem to bring him out of his trance. He raises his head to his son.

"I'm going out with Kurt for a while."

"Isn't it kind of early to be going places on a Saturday?"

"Dad, it's after noon."

"You should eat lunch." Mr. Karofsky looks desperately tired, stalling to try to keep his son in the house.

"I had breakfast like an hour ago."

Kurt snorts. Looks like someone's a late sleeper. Dave ignores him.

Mr. Karofsky knows that he's fighting a losing battle. He shuffles some papers around on the table and frowns to himself while he says, "David, I just don't think that—"

"I'll be back in a couple of hours," Dave snaps. Then he closes his eyes and breathes. When he opens them again, he repeats, "I'll be back in a few hours," his voice softer, apologetic. "I have my phone."

Mr. Karofsky abandons his lame attempt at reorganizing. He slumps back in his chair. "Just. Just sign the card before you go." He gestures vaguely to the counter before covering his eyes with his hand.

The card is a cool shade of blue and decorated with flowers and tiny birds. There's some long poem sprawling across the front in spindly cursive.

Dave advances on the card like a little kid who's standing up for himself for the first time. It's a tiny, flimsy piece of cardstock, yet it transforms Dave into a 5-year-old, who is desperately trying to look brave and unaffected.

He grips the card in both hands and Kurt has hardly enough time to make out _I love you_ in loopy writing before Dave tears the card in half once, twice. Mr. Karofsky jerks his head out of his hands to stare at his son in disbelief.

"Mom's not coming back," Dave tells the section of counter that held the Mother's Day card.

"David—" Mr. Karofsky interjects, but Dave doesn't give him the chance to speak. "Stop acting like I need to suck up to her when she's the one who _left me_. _Us._ Whatever."

Dave slaps the pieces of card back on the countertop. "This is for you, too," Dave says, pointing at the ripped up remains.

Mr. Karofsky pushes himself up from the table with a hangdog expression. Dave backs away from him, asserting, "I have my phone," before stalking out of the kitchen without giving Kurt a second thought.

Mr. Karofsky seems to forget that Kurt is still standing in the kitchen, watching him, as he gently fingers the remains of the Mother's Day card he had optimistically selected for his son.

"I'll make sure he calls," Kurt promises.

If Mr. Karofsky nods, it's too small to really be noticed.

Kurt figures it's best to leave him alone (and to follow Dave) so he takes his leave, abandoning Mr. Karofksy and the offensive shreds of cardstock.

* * *

Kurt parallel parks outside the fence surrounding the cemetery.

The backseat of Kurt's car holds a tiny bouquet of wilting daffodils that he picked up from the supermarket on his way to Dave's house. He reaches behind the driver's seat for the flowers while Dave acts as lookout for Rachel.

"Two minutes," Dave says when Kurt faces forward again with his flowers. "I win."

Kurt follows Dave's gaze and sees Rachel bounding across the cemetery towards his car. He reluctantly pulls a dollar out of his wallet and hands it to Dave.

"You just got lucky," Kurt says. "Don't spend it all in one place."

"Dude, Berry's got eyes like a hawk. You shouldn't have bet so high."

"I hardly think allowing Rachel five minutes to find us was 'betting high'."

Dave pulls the dollar tight in front of himself so that it snaps. "I think later today I'll be one pack of gum richer."

"Bragging is _so sexy_" Kurt drawls, climbing out of the car to meet Rachel, who glares at him until the slam of his door closing sets her mouth off.

"Do you have any idea how creepy it is to walk around a cemetery by yourself? You told me that you would already be here. I waited almost an hour for you to show up."

Rachel is the fastest whisper-yeller that Kurt has ever met.

"Rachel, I told you to be here twelve minutes ago."

"That's forty-eight minutes less than an hour," Dave supplies from behind Kurt.

Rachel looks up at Dave and Kurt watches her slide a mask over her face. It's the same mask that she wore everyday at school up until New Directions. And ok, a little after New Directions started. A winning smile to hide her nerves and a toned-down version of her voice that's less echolocation and more placating.

"Hi Dave. How are you doing?" She smoothes her mini skirt for lack of anything better to do, and when her hands reach the bottom of her short attire, she stuffs them in her pockets, squeezing her arms against her sides.

Dave shrugs.

Rachel's eyes widen in fear. She offers up another less-than-convincing smile and whispers in Kurt's ear, "Are his vocal chords permanently damaged?"

Kurt is about to retort when Dave beats him to the punch. "His vocal chords are fine. So is his hearing."

"Oh. Good," she says anxiously. "You know, David, if you ever need someone to talk to, my dads have years of experience talking to troubled teens and I know they'd be more than happy to—"

"I don't need all of the gays in Lima rallying for my mental health, but thanks."

Rachel nods rapidly twice and ducks her head.

Kurt looks between the two of them and exhales. He feels like he's tethering everything together. Like he's the pole that Dave and all of his friends are tied to, and without him, everything falls apart. Everyone falls to the ground. Everyone pulls_ him _to the ground.

He's sinking.

He wants to yell at them that there's no point in both of them feeling guilty about past treatment of each other (because he knows that's what's happening) so can't they just get over it already?

Instead, he says: "I'm going to lay down my flowers," and heads down the row of tombstones that he's had memorized since he was eight.

Rachel follows his lead, while Dave stumbles around a couple tombstones near the cemetery entrance, only a few feet away from Kurt's Navigator.

"Are you going to explain why he's here?" Rachel asks, while Kurt's eyes graze the familiar names that lead the way to his mother's grave. _Lindsay McGregor 1943-2001, Gavin Stone 1968-2000._

"Because I invited him."

"But Kurt. This was supposed to be you and me. Being miserable about Mother's Day together."

"Do you think we're doing something else?" _Donna Tremmle 1993-2001…_

"Kurt, is something going on with you two? Because Blaine still doesn't understand what happened between you guys, and I know he wants—"

"Wants to get back together?" Kurt finishes for her. "Well it's not going to happen. We're too… We're like the same person, in ways that we should be different. And we're different in ways that make it hard to relate to each other."

"What? No, Kurt. You just need to talk to him."

"I'll talk to him. But I don't think it's going to work out the way he wants it to, which seems to be the way everyone else wants it to work out, too. And it would be nice if my friends would stop trying to force me to feel differently about it."

"I just thought…" she mumbles, small like she gets when she's been defeated.

Kurt doesn't answer. He's made his point. And more importantly, he's in front of his mother's grave, and that always lends itself to silence.

The tombstone looks fake at first, like it always does, like a cruel joke. Something thermoformed for a temporary Halloween store.

He wants to reach out and trace the letters to reaffirm that this is real, but he has so many memories of holidays come and gone without her presence that he doesn't need to. Doesn't want to.

It only takes a few seconds for everything to settle into place. He wonders if it'll always be like that. If his mother's grave will always feel like a trick.

He lays the flowers down.

Missing his mom feels so final and he hates that, but he doesn't know how to miss her in any other way. He doesn't believe souls are separate from their bodies and he tries so hard not to make an exception for his mother, but he wonders if it's easier to miss someone when you're so sure that you'll see them again. That has temporality behind it. This is just… the end. There's no epilogue.

He closes his eyes. Rachel, thankfully, remains silent and to her credit, distant. She doesn't understand the loss of a parent, but she understands longing, so she lets him be.

When he opens his eyes, he seeks out Dave, ambling around near the car. Dave catches his eyes and they stay like that until Dave starts to get concerned, making his way over to Kurt with long, quick strides.

"Are you… Did you say something already, or…" Dave says once he reaches Kurt.

"No. She can't hear me."

Dave raises his eyebrows. Kurt follows Dave's line of sight down to the daffodils on the ground.

"But you bought flowers. Aren't you like, supposed to say something?"

"I'm not _supposed_ to do anything," Kurt snaps.

"_Sorry._" Dave's got some attitude in him when he wants to.

"What's going on?" Rachel says as she rejoins them and stops pretending to look busy.

"I hate this day," Kurt answers, by means of explanation.

"It's not great," Dave agrees.

"Says the boy who has a mother," Rachel mutters. "Don't you?"

Kurt regards Dave carefully. "That's not what I'd call her," Kurt says, hoping that's an OK thing to say about his friend's mom.

"It's just me and my dad now. But my dad doesn't think so."

"What do you mean?" Rachel asks.

"I mean my dad is a sucker who thinks that my mom is still the woman he fell in love with twenty-odd years ago, hidden prejudices and all."

Rachel gets really quiet. "And what do you think?"

Dave scowls. "I think she's a fucking bitch who can go rot in a sewer somewhere for all I care."

"Maybe she'll surprise you someday."

"Fucking hope not."

Rachel shrugs and crosses her arms. She's getting some of that know-it-all back on her face. "Sometimes people surprise you."

"She's not one of those people. She acted exactly the way I always knew she would."

Rachel looks ready to argue with him. There's a fire in her eyes and her mouth is in kind of an angry pout. It's her fighting face. Kurt's seen it in action many times before. Usually, it's directed at Finn.

"Kurt," Dave says softly, as if Rachel isn't standing there preparing a monologue. "Do you want to go?"

Kurt nods, then shrugs, then looks over his shoulder. The cemetery is vacant save for them. "I don't know. I feel like I should stay longer."

"We can go if you want, Kurt. We don't have to stay here," Rachel chimes in.

"Her absence feels like the only thing that's constant in my life," Kurt says. He can feel the scrunch of his face, the rush of heat in his cheeks. He turns away from them. He isn't going to cry here. Not this time. "My dad's in D.C. all the time."

"Shit, Kurt. Don't…" And then Dave is coming around the other side of the tombstone, wrapping his arms around Kurt, pulling him in close.

Dave is voluntarily hugging Kurt first. In front of Rachel.

Kurt returns the hug half-heartedly, but not because he doesn't appreciate it. He does, he really does, but it's making him want to weep onto Dave's shoulder about things that are long gone.

They're supposed to be moving forward. Learning how to be happier.

"Thank you," Kurt whispers to him as he breaks away.

"You're someone who could surprise people, David," Rachel tells him, smiling through her obvious concern for Kurt.

Dave blushes and hunkers down. "I don't know about that."

Kurt smiles at him too. "I do."

* * *

The three of them find their way to a greasy diner that serves vegan salads that Rachel actually tolerates. There aren't many options for a vegan living in Lima, Ohio.

Rachel receives a text message, reads it, and throws her menu down with a huff. "Why does Quinn get to spend today with Shelby?"

"Because Shelby adopted her daughter," Kurt answers absently while he scans the menu, ignoring a sticky something that left a huge blotch halfway down the page.

"Who's Shelby?" Dave asks.

"Rachel's birth mother."

"Your mom adopted Quinn and Puck's daughter?"

"Yes," Rachel says unenthusiastically.

"So is Quinn's daughter, like, your sister?"

Rachel's eyes widen. She looks to Kurt for confirmation.

Kurt sets down his menu, sitting up primly and searching for a napkin to wipe off the sticky residue on his hands. "I don't know if we need to be that generous with the family ties."

"Because," Dave continues, "If Quinn's daughter is your sister, that kind of makes Quinn your aunt."

"That's ridiculous," Rachel says, but she seems to consider the idea regardless. "It's just not… Why does she let Quinn spend time with her and her daughter, yet I'm practically a stranger?"

"With your bright and cheery attitude, I can't imagine why anyone wouldn't want to spend time with you," Kurt snarks.

After giving their drink orders to their absent-minded waitress, (diet coke for Kurt, Dr. Pepper for Dave and tea for Rachel,) Dave mumbles, "I'm sure your dads love knowing how heartbroken you are over the fact that the woman who squeezed you out of her vag isn't inviting you over for Sunday brunch."

Rachel crosses her arms and avoids Dave's gaze. When she answers, her voice is small. "My dads don't exactly know about my feelings on the matter."

"Even better," Dave says.

"What's so wrong with me wanting to get to know my mom?" Rachel demands.

"Careful," Kurt warns Dave as he opens his mouth.

Dave rolls his eyes and continues anyway. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to get to know her. But you're treating this like you got walked out on. And that's disrespectful to your dads and to Quinn and Puck."

Not wanting to hear any more of Dave's condescension, Rachel turns her full attention to Kurt. "Do you think I'm being disrespectful to my dads?" Rachel asks, like the idea is ludicrous.

What is he supposed to say? That he thinks Quinn and Puck have been forced to grow up in ways that most teenagers haven't? That it seems like Shelby is willingly to treat them as adults as long as they're able to act like adults? And that Quinn and Puck both have shitty parents, and need a good adult role model far more than Rachel does?

"I think it's a waste of time to worry about why someone doesn't like you. Not everyone is going to like you, Rachel."

"They don't."

"Can't imagine why," Dave says. If Rachel's going to continue to act the way she is, then it's no wonder why Dave is inevitably going to think of her as nothing more than whiny and entitled.

The waitress returns with their drinks and mixes them up, so that Kurt ends up with Dave's Dr. Pepper and Dave with Kurt's root beer. They don't realize that they have the wrong drinks until they both taste them, then they pull faces and eagerly switch glasses. The waitress is oblivious to the entire interaction, and it's anybody's guess what food they'll end up with as she walks away with their food order.

Rachel dips her tea bag slowly into her mug. "You haven't made yourself terribly likeable either, David," she says like it's an apology.

"I'm aware of exactly how likeable I've made myself," he answers, lifting up his soda and hesitating over the spot that Kurt drank from. Then he gives in, his mouth not touching the same place on the rim.

"New subject," Kurt says.

"You're right. I shouldn't let this day get to me so much. I blame all of the heteronormative advertising." Rachel daintily sips her tea, looking remarkably calmer now that they're off the subject of her family issues. "I can't believe it's _May_. We'll be hearing back from NYADA any day now." She grips her tea to hide any lingering nerves.

"Don't remind me," Kurt says.

"David, what are you doing after school?"

A valid question, really. What is Dave doing after school? Kurt never thought to ask. He's been so caught up his future and Dave's _present_ that he never stopped and took a moment to realize that Dave has a future, too. Dave's got to have a future.

"I heard back from a few places, but I didn't get in where I really wanted to go, so I haven't decided. Shit's been distracting me."

When they ask, Dave tells them about how he wanted to go to MIT, but got rejected because his grades "were fucking terrible" for a semester or two in the middle of high school. He got into Ohio State and a couple other schools.

"Talking to you is different," Rachel concludes when their food arrives. "You're more complex than people give you credit for."

Dave frowns. "Is that a good thing?"

"Yes," Kurt says, while Rachel shrugs. "Complexity isn't a bad thing," Rachel adds. "And anyway, Finn likes you."

Dave's frown deepens. "He does?"

"And he says you're friends with Sam and Artie."

"I am?" Dave eyes Kurt to see if Kurt is going to verify this information, but Kurt only gestures at Rachel as if to say, "You heard the woman."

"We've got nationals in a few weeks, then we're having this huge party to celebrate graduation and us coming home with a first place trophy. You should come to the party. I can't say that I completely appreciated everything that you said to me earlier, but I think you could be sweet if you let yourself and I think a party with open-minded people would be good for you."

That's a lot of information in a short period of time. Conversations with Rachel tend to have a whirlwind effect. "We're having a party? Since when?" is the first thing Kurt's brain chooses to address.

"Since I started planning it," Rachel says smugly over the top of her teacup.

Of course. Who else would plan a New Directions party?

Dave is silent while he processes everything that Rachel just said. His eyes linger on the table in between Kurt and Rachel, seated in the booth across from him. It's as though he's focusing so hard on trying to make himself fit in that space, trying to squeeze himself into their group. Trying to make whole-truths out of what Kurt knows that Dave is considering to be fabrications.

Once he's finished digesting Rachel's words, Dave stares pointedly at Kurt and repeats what appears to be the source of the most conflict. "I'm friends with Sam and Artie?"

"Not only them," Kurt replies, knowing its stupid to be offended, because it's not like Dave was implying that he wasn't friends with Kurt.

"Fuck you guys," Dave says. "I have other friends." Dave's joking, Kurt knows that Dave's joking. And regardless, it's impossible to be mad at Dave when his eyes light up the way they do: green, and shiny, and light.


	21. Yellow Brick Road

AN: I realize that it's been ages, but I'm back now, and I come prepared with an outline of all the remaining chapters. Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me thus far. It means a lot.

Chapter 21

Yellow Brick Road

Kurt dreams that he's in a garden full of jasmine. The white flower petals are so bright that they glow, even in the sunlight. It's ethereal and at the same time earthy; as he walks his boots leave prints in the dark, rich soil.

There's something off about the scent that encases him. It's potent and sickeningly sweet, a scent bordering on rotten. Nothing looks dead, though. Everything is alive and fresh, almost impossibly so.

Maybe the rot is coming from him.

He checks himself. He holds his hands out in front of him and they're still his hands, pale and soft and mildly transparent.

No, that's not it either.

Where is it coming from? Everything looks normal. It's just the smell that's getting to him, that's all it is.

He breathes deeply, in and out, telling himself to relax, that's there's nothing wrong, that there's absolutely nothing unsettling about this place that he's found himself in.

The longer he spends trying to convincing himself that everything is ok in this eerie place where nothing moves except him, the more he knows in his gut that something is terribly wrong.

The jasmine illuminates as though the sun is an oversized black light, but nothing about Kurt is particularly noteworthy. He's not affected by the way the sun strikes the earth around him.

He reaches out to pluck one of the blossoms but instead of catching the silky looking petals in his hand, the flower crumbles, melts into sand that glides, unfeeling, through his waiting fingers.

It's stupid. It's only a flower. It's not him.

If only he could do something about that awful smell.

Each breath he takes, each lungful of that overwhelming scent feels more foreign inside his body, outside his body.

What is he supposed to do, stop breathing? It's everywhere.

He sucks it in regardless, because he's trapped, because he has no choice, because he can't stop breathing.

Then everything around him starts to squish together.

There's all this pressure surrounding him, crushing his clothes against himself, locking his arms and legs, and although it's unsettling, it doesn't necessarily hurt. The force of it is both sudden and unsurprising, like part of him had been waiting for this and he hadn't realized it.

He allows himself to relax into the touch, into this invisible squeezing.

He thinks, _this living place smells like death._

This place isn't as unbearable as he thought, not with this force field around him, enclosing him, holding him tight.

He wishes he could see who it is, or what it is, or how many whos or whats have combined to keep him steady.

He opens his mouth to ask, to greet the thing inside the garden.

Words don't come out. Instead, he sings a short melody, something lonely and forgettable that drops like lead through the stillness.

From his right comes the gentle crescendo of a piano arpeggio and the world gets fuzzy until he opens his eyes in his bedroom, squinting at the light that always manages to slip between his curtains, no matter how tightly he closes them.

Adele's wonderfully raspy, emotion-laden voice sings out,

_I've been walking in the same way as I did _

_And missing out the cracks in the pavement _

_And tutting my heel and strutting my feet _

_"Is there anything I can do for you dear? _

_Is there anyone I could call? _

_No, and thank you, please madam, _

_I ain't lost, just wandering"_

It's the first day of the last rehearsals for glee. Nationals are in nine days. It's truly the start of the inevitable end of glee and high school and Lima and the few things that are constants in his life.

_Round my hometown, memories are fresh _

_Round my hometown, ooh, the people I've met _

_Are the wonders of my world, are the wonders of my world _

_Are the wonders of this world, are the wonders and now  
I like it in the city when the air is so thick and opaque _

_I love it to see everybody in short skirts, shorts and shades _

_I like it in the city when two worlds collide _

_You get the people and the government _

_Everybody taking different sides  
_

You spend your whole life getting used to this place. How quickly you leave it all behind._ Shit, _he thinks, closing his eyes again.

_Shows that we ain't gonna stand shit _

_Shows that we are united _

_Shows that we ain't gonna take it _

_Shows that we ain't gonna—_

He slaps around his bedside table until he hits his alarm clock and Adele finally shuts up.

* * *

Blaine doesn't surprise him by showing up at his locker. They don't share any classes and Blaine eats lunch with the jocks, so Kurt doesn't really get a good look at Blaine until Glee.

Mr. Shue claps his hands at 3:00 on the dot.

"Nationals!" he cheers with a maniacal grin.

There is a mostly enthusiastic response. Artie raises the roof with Sam. Santana and Brittany lock pinkies. Finn and Puck high-five. Rachel peers around the room for someone to share her giddiness with while Finn is preoccupied. Mercedes turns around and studies Kurt in his back corner, making sure he's alright when he doesn't share his friends' excitement. He smiles at her as best as he can.

It's going to be over so soon.

And it's not like he'll get a solo.

"Settle down everyone," Mr. Shue says, unwilling to settle down himself, his smile unwavering in its borderline creepiness. He erases "Prom" from the whiteboard. (And couldn't he have done that last week? How hard is it to erase one word?) "It's time to make song selections for our set list. We don't want a repeat of last year."

Everyone murmurs to each other as Finn cringes and Rachel crosses then re-crosses her legs.

Blaine looks back at Kurt from his seat in the front row. Blaine wasn't at Nationals with them, of course, but he heard all about it. This is Blaine sharing the memory with Kurt. This is him telling someone that he knows what happened, even if he didn't see it. (It's a bittersweet memory because Kurt remembers what happened after he told Blaine about Nationals, and it's a confident "I love you" from Blaine over iced coffee, followed by a surprised and embarrassingly hesitant "I love you too.") Blaine offers a pained smile, the type of smile you give because you know you should, even if you don't want to. Kurt holds up his hand and curls his fingers in a subtle wave.

The moment breaks. Blaine faces forward and no one is the wiser.

Mr. Shue carries on about Nationals and song selection and dancing, eventually pausing enough to ask them to write down their top two choices on a piece of notebook paper. They're taking it to a vote. What else is new.

"Our theme this year," Mr. Shue says over the snapping of three-ring binders and tearing of paper, "is 'beginnings', for those of you who are about to start a brand new life after high school."

"How original," Kurt mutters.

As Mr. Shue rambles on about the 'changing seasons' of their lives and the mature young adults they have become, Kurt thumps his pencil on his paper. They're supposed to sing about where they envision themselves in the future, about the path that they're leaving behind and the new one they're going to start.

He wonders: is this supposed to be a happy assignment?

Rachel has plenty of ideas and starts scribbling away.

"I said your top two choices, Rachel," Mr. Shue says when he catching her filling up her paper.

Finn doesn't write. Neither does Puck. Sam jots something down then crosses it out.

At least Kurt's not alone.

They get five minutes. Are they seriously expected to have a song waiting at their disposal that will conclude their entire high school experience?

Kurt has a song in mind, but it's not quite right. Not when he's supposed to be excited and brave and ready.

He could go with the obvious. "Graduation" by Vitamin C, "Breakaway" by Kelly Clarkson, Lee Ann Womack's "I hope you Dance."

He doesn't want any of those. They're songs about overcoming the obstacles and he doesn't feel much like overcoming anything at the moment.

Mr. Shue calls time, and everyone passes their papers forward. He shuffles through their song choices as a murmur starts around the room, escalating quickly into full on conversations. People start discussing what they did over the weekend. Rachel doesn't chime in. Neither does Kurt.

"Guys—" Mr. Shue yells over the cacophony. "Some of these are blank."

"Maybe we don't all feel like celebrating," Puck says.

"Dude," Finn says as the room grows quiet. "What?"

The glee boys all eye Puck with equal parts sympathy and pity. They don't even need Puck to answer.

He does anyway. "Look, I don't know for sure. It just doesn't feel like much of a celebration, OK?"

"Puck, what are you talking about?" Mr. Shue, always the pacific. Always one step behind.

Puck bares his teeth. "Nothing."

"Puck, you sure you're OK?" Mr. Shue asks anyway.

Finn cuts in before Puck has the chance to let loose whatever expletives are waiting on his tongue. "He said he doesn't want to talk about it," Finn says softly, with a note of finality, but it doesn't stop him from looking at Puck with disappointment. Finn's a pacific too, always has been, but for all of his slow-wittedness, at times he has an uncanny ability to know what people are thinking, and when to push, and when to stop. Now is time to stop.

Finn stands. "Mr. Shue, can I sing? I've got a song, and I didn't write anything down, but as co-captain—" he shoots Rachel one of his infamous crooked smiles (Rachel bounces with giddiness)— "as co-captain, shouldn't we perform our songs? Instead of like, making lists?"

Rachel jumps up. "That's a great idea! Then we'll get to hear everyone's top choice _and _we'll get to hear everyone solo, so we can determine who the solos go to in the group number."

Mercedes chants "No no no" with indignation, while Santana presses a hand to her heart.

"Ex_cuse_ me, Gonzo?" Santana says. "What makes you think that I'd be trying out for a solo in the _group number_?"

Mercedes nods at Santana and gives her a low-five.

"I just think that the solos should go to the people who are going into the performing arts, so that they can get more practice singing in front of large groups of people under pressure—"

That could potentially work to Kurt's benefit, it Rachel wasn't twisting it to make it about her.

"Rachel, I'm sorry you blew your audition, but not everything is about you." Finn picks up the drumsticks waiting by the (for once, vacant) drum kit.

He shoots a small, sad smile at Puck before starting the song off with a few measures of drum fills.

_Run and tell all of the angels, this could take all night  
Think I need a devil to help me get things right  
Hook me up a new revolution 'cause this one is a lie  
We sat around laughin' and watched the last one die_

_Yeah, I'm lookin' to the sky to save me_  
_Lookin' for a sign of life_  
_Lookin' for something to help me burn out bright_  
_I'm lookin' for a complication_  
_Lookin' 'cause I'm tired of lyin'_  
_Make my way back home when I learn to fly high_

_I think I'm dyin' nursing patience_  
_It can wait one night_  
_I'd give it all away if you give me one last try_  
_We'll live happily ever trapped if you just save my life_  
_Run and tell the angels that everything's alright_

_I'm lookin' to the sky to save me_  
_Lookin' for a sign of life_  
_Lookin' for somethin' to help me burn out bright_  
_I'm lookin' for a complication_  
_Lookin' 'cause I'm tired of tryin'_  
_Make my way back home when I learn to fly high_  
_Make my way back home when I learn to…_

_Fly along with me, I can't quite make it alone_  
_Try to make this life my own_  
_Fly along with me, I can't quite make it alone_  
_Try to make this life my own_

Puck remains unmoved.

"Wow, that was great Finn! Who's up next?" Mr. Shue asks.

Rachel bounds to the forefront.

_I will remember you_

_Will you remember me?_

_Don't let your life_

_Pass you by_

_Weep not for the memories…_

"So fricken' sappy," Santana drawls once Rachel is done. (That summarizes Kurt's feelings pretty exactly).

"Santana, maybe you'd like to go next?" Mr. Shue prompts.

She shakes her head with a smirk. "I didn't write down a song."

"That's not true," Brittany chimes in. "I saw you. You wrote that one about birds."

Santana squints at her. "Britt, what?"

"Yeah, and wind."

Santana shakes her head. Mr. Shue flips through his papers. "_Wind Beneath my Wings_?"

Talk about sappy songs. Honestly.

The class howls.

"Now wait a minute," Santana says, laughing humorlessly and holding up a hand to silence everyone. "Those were anonymous."

Mr. Shue gestures earnestly at Brittany.

"Tana, you should sing it," Brittany mock-whispers.

"This is ridiculous. I'm not singing that song."

Brittany raises her hand high. "Mr. Shue, I'll sing mine!"

Mr. Shue waves her to the front.

Brittany sings "Goodbye" by the Spice Girls (except it's Spice Girls sans Ginger, which doesn't really count in Kurt's opinion).

_No no no no  
No no no no  
No no no no_

_Now listen little child, there will come a day  
When you will be able, able to say  
Never mind the pain, or the aggravation  
You know there's a better way for you and me to be  
Look for the rainbow in every storm  
Fly like an angel, heaven sent to me_

_Goodbye my friend  
I know you're gone, you said you're gone  
But I can still feel you here  
It's not the end  
Gotta keep it strong  
Before the pain turns into fear_

_So glad we made it  
Time will never change it, no no no  
No no no no_

_Just a little girl, big imagination  
Never letting no one (take it away)  
Went into the world (into the world)  
What a revelation  
She found there's a better way  
For you and me to be  
Look for the rainbow in every storm  
Find out for certain loves gonna be there for you  
You'll always be someone's baby_

Kurt loves his Spice Girls, but in terms of overly sentimental Spice Girls songs, this is probably number one on his list. Still, because Brittany is endearing and the song came out of her mouth, it has the desired, sobering effect.

Santana doesn't even comment on the fact that it's Spice Girls.

No one feels much like singing after that, especially after Santana has been silenced. It takes some of the normalcy away.

They let out a half hour later, and it appears that there had been some ploy to get Kurt and Blaine alone, because everyone takes off like gunfire when Mr. Shue gives the go-ahead.

It doesn't go unnoticed.

"Today was awfully unproductive considering Nationals is in a week and a half," Blaine starts, pseudo-casually as Kurt descends from the steps behind him.

Kurt shrugs. "We're not Warblers."

"No," Blaine says. "I guess you're not." He exhales. "So, what song did you pick?" He's trying so hard to be normal.

"I didn't. I wasn't exactly inspired by the theme."

Blaine shoots him a doubtful look.

Kurt hoists up his messenger bag and clings to the strap. "How're you doing?" he asks softly.

Blaine forces a smile. "Pretty uh, pretty terrible."

"Me too."

"Then why did you do it?" Blaine demands, full of indignation.

"Because everything is changing and I have no idea what's going to happen in the next year or even the next month. I don't know where I'm going to be, or if I'll make friends there, or if I'll be a total, talentless joke, which seems likely more often than not. And thinking about us, and not knowing if we'd be OK or not just made everything so much worse."

"So nice to hear that you had faith in us," Blaine says sarcastically.

"We haven't been OK, not for a while."

"You could've talked to me."

"I tried. But I didn't know what else to say to make it better. I'm sorry that you don't like me talking about going away, but it's a big deal and we're supposed to be able to talk about these things."

"It's a big deal to me too, Kurt."

Kurt swallows past the lump in his throat and tightens his grip on his bag. "But you're the one that gets to stay."

Blaine studies his face with wide, heartbreaking eyes. "Kurt… I don't know why there's any doubt in your mind that New York is going to love you."

* * *

Kurt sees the text from Dave once he's home from Glee. Finn got a ride with Rachel and who knows where Sam went (probably over to Artie's) so Kurt's alone once again.

Dave's text is a simple _Whats up?_

Kurt writes back _Glee_, because he doesn't feel like explaining.

Dave calls him. When Kurt answers, Dave says, "Do I want to ask what happened?" because he knows that Glee harbors some crazies.

"It's Nationals."

"Oh," Dave says. "Wait, isn't that a good thing?"

"Yes. No. Of course it is."

Dave waits.

"We're picking songs about graduation. And everyone has these songs that are inspirational or sentimental."

"Yeah, so what's yours?"

"Not inspirational."

"_Kurt_."

Kurt sighs. Then he starts to sing.

_When are you gonna come down  
When are you going to land  
I should have stayed on the farm  
I should have listened to my old man_

_You know you can't hold me forever  
I didn't sign up with you  
I'm not a present for your friends to open  
This boy's too young to be singing the blues_

_So goodbye yellow brick road  
Where the dogs of society howl  
You can't plant me in your penthouse  
I'm going back to my plough_

_Back to the howling old owl in the woods_  
_Hunting the horny back toad_  
_Oh I've finally decided my future lies_  
_Beyond the yellow brick road_

_What do you think you'll do then  
I bet that'll shoot down your plane  
It'll take you a couple of vodka and tonics  
To set you on your feet again_

_Maybe you'll get a replacement  
There's plenty like me to be found  
Mongrels who ain't got a penny  
Sniffing for tidbits like you on the ground_

_So goodbye yellow brick road  
Where the dogs of society howl  
You can't plant me in your penthouse  
I'm going back to my plough_

When the song ends, Dave's angry. "That sounds an awful lot like you giving up."

"I know how to deal with small-town close-mindedness. I don't know how to face big-city rejection."

"Then you'll learn. Isn't that the point?"

* * *

Blaine volunteers to sing first in Glee the following day. Stripped of his usual Top 40's, Blaine croons some Billy Joel.

_Slow down you crazy child  
You're so ambitious for a juvenile  
But then if you're so smart tell me,  
Why are you still so afraid? (mmmmm)_

Blaine avoids looking at Kurt or anywhere in his direction, but Kurt knows the song is for him.

Where's the fire, what's the hurry about?  
You better cool it off before you burn it out  
You got so much to do and only  
So many hours in a day (Ay)

But you know that when the truth is told  
That you can get what you want  
Or you can just get old  
You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through (Oooh)  
When will you realize... Vienna waits for you?

Slow down you're doing fine  
You can't be everything you want to be before your time  
Although it's so romantic on the borderline tonight (tonight)

He finally makes eye contact and Blaine's earnestness is everything that Kurt's afraid of.

Too bad, but it's the life you lead  
You're so ahead of yourself that you forgot what you need  
Though you can see when you're wrong  
You know you can't always see when you're right (you're right)

You got your passion, you got your pride

Blaine smiles despite himself, before continuing:_  
_

_But don't you know that only fools are satisfied?  
Dream on, but don't imagine they'll all come true (Oooh)  
When will you realize... Vienna waits for you?_

Slow down you crazy child  
Take the phone off the hook and disappear for a while  
It's alright, you can afford to lose a day or two (oooh)  
When will you realize... Vienna waits for you?

And you know that when the truth is told  
That you can get what you want or you can just get old  
You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through (oooh)  
Why don't you realize... Vienna waits for you?

When will you realize... Vienna waits for you?

Kurt ignores the implication that Blaine might be the one who's waiting, and he fixates on New York, and how it's not going anywhere, and how New York doesn't even know that Kurt Hummel exists anywhere, let alone in Lima, Ohio.

Kurt is young and he's still got time. He knows that. But why should he put off something that he wants, even if he's scared shitless?

When does fear become a legitimate excuse for delaying your dreams?

* * *

Author's Note The Second: Songs in order, are: "Hometown Glory" by Adele, "Learn to Fly" by The Foo Fighters, "Goodbye" by The Spice Girls, "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" by Elton John and "Vienna" by Billy Joel.


End file.
